


The Life of the Land is Perpetuated in Righteousness

by sassembled



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (on Bucky's part), Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Police, Blood and Injury, Drugs, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Weapons, no main Hawaii Five-0 characters, other things you would expect in a police AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-04-08 18:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4315548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassembled/pseuds/sassembled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Born and raised in Hawaii, Army Captain Steve Rogers has always had a soft spot for aloha shirts, rubber slippers, and spam musubis.</p><p>Born and raised in New York, Detective Sergeant James Barnes hates the sun, the beach, and the fact that his skin burns in the shade.</p><p>While they both have drastically different feelings about the 50th state, they do have one thing in common: they will do whatever it takes to protect their homes (both old and new) and the people they care about.</p><p>A Marvel/Hawaii Five-0 AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ke Kinohi - The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> **UPDATE (Jan. 12, 2017):**  
>  Hi everyone!  
> After a lot of consideration, I have decided that I won't be continuing to update Life of the Land. It's been a great experience, but recent changes in my schedule and life have made me unable to edit and update this fic as much as I would like. In addition, as I mentioned in the later chapters, I lost all of my notes and half-written chapters when my harddrive crashed last summer. I would have also liked to go back and extensively edit the earlier chapters before writing any further, but I was never satisfied with the revisions I made and eventually ran out of free time. There's a small chance I may restart the story from scratch and with a clean slate, but that would be in the very distant future. Thanks to all of you for your support during these 14 chapters!
> 
> \----------
> 
> Alright, so a few things to mention:
> 
> 1\. This is the first thing I've written in years, so I'm sorry about my bad grammar, run-on sentences, and misplaced commas. I proofread as much as I can, but feel free to let me know if you catch any mistakes!
> 
> 2\. Warning: this fic may also be a bit of a cultural lesson. (On a related note, typing out Pidgin English is a lot harder than I thought.)
> 
> 3\. Tags will be updated as the story progresses. (This includes characters and relationships.)
> 
>  
> 
> The title is a translation of the Hawaii state motto: Ua Mau ke Ea o ka ʻĀina i ka Pono.

_South Korea, 20 miles south of the DMZ_

It took a lot to catch Captain Steve Rogers off guard. Yet somehow, while in the middle of a military convoy of heavily armored vehicles, one person managed to do just that. Moments ago, he and his soldiers had been transporting a wanted fugitive when Steve had received that fateful phone call from his father. That in itself was suspicious since the two of them hardly spoke to each other. He had answered it regardless, having a few ideas of what to expect from their upcoming conversation. But what actually followed was nothing like what Steve had in mind.

_“Listen to me, Champ. I’m sorry that I lied to you. I love you, son. I didn't say it enough. Whatever these people want, Steve, don't give it to them! DON'T YOU GIVE IT TO THEM!”_

_CRACK_

Steve flinched at the sound of metal crashing into bone that was immediately followed by a low grunt from his father. Steve thought he would be ready for anything. He thought that all his years in the army would prepare him for a situation like this. Hell, even his few years as a Boy Scout should have taught him about the “be prepared for anything” mentality. Granted, when you’re 10 years old, wearing khaki shorts, and learning to tie 50 different types of knots, you don’t really wonder how to prepare yourself for when an immediate family member is being threatened at gunpoint 5,000 miles away.

So for a few seconds, all Steve could do is sit there, frozen in the center of an armored car with his phone glued to his ear. The soft buzz of static from the call was nearly drowned out by the pounding of his heart as his pulse rose.

Before he knew it, his mind rushed away from the present and to that oh-so-familiar place called home. He didn’t even know if his father was at their house, but that’s all Steve could think of. Their home was on the modest side, especially compared to the other beachfront houses in his Aina Haina neighborhood. But what it lacked in beauty, it made up for in charm. Even compared to the beautiful Hawaiian beaches and mountains, home was Steve’s favorite place to be. Steve had always known it as a safe haven, especially when he was a kid who was just skin and bones. During those years, even Hawaii felt cold during the peak of the hurricane season, when the rain would pour down in unrelenting sheets and the waves crashed dangerously in their backyard. But even through the elements, Steve had felt safe and protected within the warmth of his home—

_“Captain Rogers? Have I lost your attention?”_

Suddenly, his mental image of his home changed, looking as if the storm had swept through it. Tables were overturn, vases were shattered, papers were scattered over the flooded floor. And in the middle of it all was a person, one with no notable features except for a gun in their hand and a malicious smile on their face. And at the receiving end of the gun was his father’s head.

Steve mentally shook himself. Even if he wasn’t prepared for this, he still had to do _something_. He wordlessly but urgently waved to the soldiers sitting beside him, gesturing at the scrap paper and pen sitting on the floor of the vehicle. Once he got ahold of the items, he scribbled down a message and handed it back to the soldiers:

_Send Honolulu PD to 1601 Kalanianaole Hwy ASAP—1 hostage, 1 or more hostile_

While the soldiers began to follow the written orders, Steve turned his attention back to the anonymous caller on the other end of the line. He had to buy enough time for HPD to drive to his house.

“No, you haven’t,” Steve replied, successfully steadying his voice while his body shook furiously in both rage and panic. “Now what the hell do you want?”

The voice on the other end tutted softly, making Steve even angrier. _“Really, Captain, you’re making it very difficult for me to keep being civil with you.”_ Like before, the voice was morphed, preventing Steve from detecting key traits such as gender, accent, or dialect. _“All I’m asking for is a simply exchange.”_

Steve’s eyes snapped to the man sitting across from him. At the slight reaction, Ian Quinn’s eyes lit up and his mouth quirked into a knowing smirk. From Steve’s perspective, this man was a nobody, especially when compared to his father. Sure, Steve has had his differences with the great Joseph Rogers, but at least his father saved people’s lives for a living. Quinn, on the other hand, was a lowlife—a thriving businessman who gained his success from countless black market deals. While Steve obviously didn’t want Quinn back on the streets, he sure as hell didn’t want his father to die just for the scumbag to remain in custody.

“Whoever this is, you should be smart enough to know that we don’t negotiate with terrorists.” As he spoke, Steve could feel his anger win over his panic, allowing him to back his words with an authoritative voice.

_“I’m flattered by your compliment, but it is_ you _I’m speaking to, Captain Rogers, no one else. Do you really think Quinn is worth your father’s life?”_

_Hell, no,_ Steve immediately thought, but he bit back his comment. His soldiers signaled that HPD was en route to his home. All he had to do was stall for a little longer…

“I’m not going to negotiate,” Steve said resolutely, before adding in a lower voice, “not like this.”

The chuckle that followed, combined with the digital voice modifications, resulted in an eerie noise that would’ve made Steve’s skin crawl if he wasn’t so angry. _“So we are going to negotiate then?”_

Just the thought of him negotiating with this asshole riled Steve up even more. But he had to play along if he wanted his dad to make it out of this alive.

“Yeah, fine. But as I said, not like this. It’ll be a clean exchange, and no one will have to get hurt. Because, and you remember this, if you kill him, you get _nothing_.”

There was a long pause, and for a brief moment Steve silently panicked that the call had dropped and these people would think he hung up intentionally and—oh, god—they were going to kill his dad—

An explosion in front of their vehicle burst through Steve’s thoughts and forced their procession to a screeching halt. Through one of the small windows, Steve could see the lead car of their three-vehicle convoy covered in billowing flames. Rapid gunfire followed immediately after, and judging by the familiar voices that cried out in pain around them, Steve guessed they had just driven into a trap.

The other soldiers had already deftly drawn their weapons and were concentrating their fire on a spot a good distance above the ground, shooting out the windows, the roof, and the back of the vehicle. Over the gunfire, he could hear a helicopter hovering nearby. Steve quickly pocketed his phone—he had a feeling that the anonymous caller knew exactly what was going on—before bringing up the rifle he had slung over his shoulder and glancing around for a good vantage point.

Suddenly there was another explosion—the vehicle behind their own—throwing Steve, Quinn, and the rest of the soldiers in the vehicle off-balance. By the time Steve managed to clamber to his feet, half a dozen of the enemy soldiers had descended from the helicopter. And they were all approaching Steve’s location.

_They’re here to grab Quinn._ Even though Steve didn’t really care if Quinn happened to get caught in the crossfire, Steve had a feeling that the scumbag was a small piece of a very large puzzle, one that he had been trying to put together for years. And he wouldn’t let this lead go without a fight.

Steve yanked Quinn (who was still struggling to right himself with cuffed hands) from the floor and positioned them both flat against the armored walls at the very back of the vehicle. Around them, the other soldiers were scrambling out of the vehicle to find better cover. Steve peered out of the vehicle as they did so, firing at the enemies to distract them from his soldiers. Once his soldiers were positioned, Steve slipped back into the vehicle and reloaded his weapon.

“Cover me!” he shouted to the nearest soldier.

“Yes, sir!” she replied before relaying the orders to the rest of the group.

As their gunfire pinned their enemies down, Steve jumped from the vehicle, dragging Quinn along with him. He then unceremoniously shoved Quinn away from the firefight, following closely behind.

Movement in his peripherals caused Steve to instinctively throw Quinn and himself to the side for cover, just as a stream of bullets hit their former positions. Even as they hid, the bullets kept flying, and Steve wondered if they even cared about taking Quinn alive.

Suddenly, Steve heard the familiar noise of a gun jamming, and the gunfire aimed at them abruptly ceased. He quickly emerged from their shelter, firing three shots at their attacker in quick succession with each of them meeting his target. 

But the question on whether or not they cared about keeping Quinn alive was soon answered. While Steve was busy saving their asses, Quinn sprinted off in the opposite direction as fast as a handcuffed man could run. He didn’t make it very far, though; right when Steve saw where he ran off to, another stream of bullets pelted Quinn down in an instant. Steve’s head spun around to look for the source: it came from the helicopter, which was now hightailing it out of there and abandoning the rest of the soldiers it had dropped off that managed to survive the firefight.

As he heard the sounds of his soldiers taking out the remaining enemies, Steve rushed over to Quinn, hoping that maybe, just maybe, that bastard would have survived…

But no, Quinn was very much dead, and his dad… _shit—_

Steve’s hands would’ve fumbled if he wasn’t still running off adrenaline as he scrambled to retrieve the phone from his pocket.

“Dad!” Steve panicked when there was no response, and felt his adrenaline start to wane in favor of fear. “DAD!”

Rustling from the other end sent a wave of relief through him, but this feeling was short lived.

_“Put Quinn on the line.”_

Steve froze. Hadn’t they just—?

The morphed voice sighed. _“I suppose he can’t talk if he’s dead, right?”_

So this was all part of their plan. And now Steve’s dad…what would they do to him? _Where the hell was HPD?_

“You got what you wanted so just leave me dad out of it.” Steve was barely able to keep his voice steady, but he forced as much power behind his words as possible.

_“I’m sorry, Captain, really.”_ They didn’t sound the least bit sorry. _“But you know I can’t do that. How else will I keep you from pulling on this thread? Quinn might have been a mere pawn, but we both know you won’t stop looking into things if I don’t teach you a lesson.”_

They knew that Steve was on to them, whoever “they” were. And they were going to kill his dad because of that.

“Look, whoever you are,” Steve couldn’t hold back the pleading in his words. “You don’t have to do this—”

The faint sound of sirens in the background cut off Steve’s words, and the voice sighed one last time.

_“Oh, Captain Rogers, I wish you hadn’t done that…”_

“Wait—no, Dad, NO!”

_“Steve, I—”_

But his dad’s words were cut short by the sharp crack of a gunshot. All Steve could hear was a faint blare of sirens and a heavy thud before the line went dead.


	2. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I should expand the story a little more before the weekend ended. Thanks for reading!
> 
> (Note: Alcohol mentions in this chapter.)
> 
> UPDATE (Dec. 14, 2015): Formerly chapter 3

_Waikīkī_  
_4 days later, 2100 hours_

Ever since Steve boarded the plane going from Incheon to Honolulu, he knew the first thing he was going to do upon landing was grab a plate lunch of good ol’ Hawaiian style comfort food and a 12-pack of beer before crashing in the hotel room he reserved while the investigation in his home went on. It was all he could do to keep himself from marching up to the house— _his_ house—and conducting his own investigation. Steve knew that HPD had put their best detectives on this case—after all, his father had been one of them. But that didn’t keep him from feeling that they just weren’t doing _enough_.

So that’s why he found himself locked up in a decently priced hotel room in Waikiki with a pack of chilled Longboards in front of him and not one but _three_ take-out plates piled high with his favorite local foods. (Okay, he might have been a little homesick recently.) Steve cranked the AC down to 50 degrees, hopped into bed, and curled himself in the thick blanket before he tackled his excessive amount of food. After running on anger and adrenaline for the past few days before coming home, Steve was exhausted. As much as he hated it, he knew he needed some time to rest before jumping back into things.

Nearly two plate lunches and five chugged beers later, there was a sharp knock at the door. Steve, slightly buzzed and very engrossed in a documentary on sloths, didn’t register the noise at first. It wasn’t until the knocking came a second time that he noticed it, and he really, really did not want to answer it. Convincing himself that it could be related to his dad’s case, Steve dragged himself out of bed and trudged to the door.

It was a good thing Steve was sober enough to have enough common sense and look through the peephole before answering it. Because standing right outside his door was Lieutenant Governor Fury himself. Also in the hall was his assistant/bodyguard (the woman could easily pass off as either role, Steve noted) who lingered just behind him. Steve took a step back, sobering up almost immediately. This had to be a dream. He leaned back towards the door to check, and nope, this was the real deal.

Well, shit.

“I’ll be right there!” he called out as he rushed back to the bed, hoping it wouldn’t sound like he was standing right in front of the door. He moved the food and drinks to the table and straightened up the bed in an attempt to make the place look even a little less pathetic than it actually was. After a minute, he glanced at the mirror to make sure he didn’t look completely messed up before answering the door.

As soon as he did though, Steve knew that he wasn’t hiding anything from Nick Fury. All Fury needed was his one good eye to make Steve feel so transparent.

“It’s been a while, Captain Rogers,” Fury greeted seriously as he held out a hand.

Steve, relieved that Fury was keeping it professional, graciously shook his hand. “It has. It’s good to see you again, sir.” After they shook hands, Steve stepped to the side and welcomed Fury inside.

“Thanks.” Fury signaled to his bodyguard assistant to wait outside before entering, making his way to the chairs by the single large window. Thankfully he ignored the empty beer bottles and mostly eaten plates of food. “This shouldn’t take long, though.”

Steve closed the door and followed Fury. As they took their seats, Steve couldn’t help but feel a little restless. Sure, he’d known Fury for all of his life—after all he and his dad used to work together on the force—but he had no idea why the man was here. To pay condolences, maybe, but Steve wasn’t picking up that vibe. No, this felt more like… a business meeting, perhaps?

“You must be wondering why I’m here, Captain.”

Caught in the act.

“Please, sir, you’ve known me since I was a kid. ‘Steve’ is fine.”

Fury nodded. “Well then, Steve, I’ll get straight to the point. I’m here about your father.”

Of course. Steve didn’t know why he thought otherwise. Feeling Fury’s eye on him, Steve averted his gaze to the window. Suddenly, the concrete slab of a building right outside looked particularly intriguing.

“It’s not what you think,” Fury continued, reading Steve like an open book. “While I do offer my condolences, I have an offer to make to you, in regards to your particular skillset.”

Okay, Steve was not expecting this. He was guessing Fury was alluding to his army experience, but what did he need that for? Intrigued, Steve looked back at Fury. “I’m listening.”

Fury continued his pitch. “These people, the ones who did this to your father, to _you_ , they’re out of control. They’re running rampant on these islands like a bunch of goddamn animals, and it’s driving the capital crazy.

“And it’s not just these guys—crime rates have hit an all-time high in general. Honolulu’s especially. I swear, this county’s going to turn into a fucking circus unless we take some action.” Fury paused and pointed to Steve. “That’s where you come in.”

Steve could guess where this was heading but decided to ask anyway. “Me? What do you want me to do about it?”

“Steve, I’ve seen your file. You get shit done and you do it well. And everyone respects you. Hell, even the people who hate you still respect you. You’re like America’s golden boy, kid, a natural _Captain fucking Ameri_ —”

“And so are a lot of other good men and women, sir,” Steve hurriedly interjected, feeling embarrassed by all the sudden praise. “Why not ask them? They might even be better candidates since they’re not… you know… personally involved in the matter.”

“My point exactly. You care even more about cleaning this shit up than these other people would. And besides,” Fury leaned towards Steve a bit. “I don’t trust them like I trust you, Steve.”

Steve sat in silence for a moment, deep in thought. Fury was right. After years of traveling the world and trying to make a difference, all he really wanted to do now was make a difference here in Hawaii. But he wasn’t sure if he was the right man for the job.

“You’d get your own team, and any other resources you need,” Fury added. “There’s also office space at the capital for you to set as headquarters. You’d be reporting directly to me or the governor, and we’re planning on giving you whatever you need to get the job done. We’ll also pay pretty generously, but you and I both know you don’t care about the money.”

Steve nodded silently in agreement to the last statement and he was glad that Fury knew him that well. The offer was tempting, really, but Steve still wasn’t absolutely positive that this is what he wanted to do.

“Thank you for the offer, sir, but I’ll need some time to think it over.”

Fury nodded, looking slightly disappointed. “Of course, kid. Anything you need.”

They both stood, and Fury pulled a business card from his pocket. “You let me know when you’ve decided, got it?” He handed the card over.

Steve nodded as he took it, and both men walked over to the door. In the hallway, the woman was still waiting but now she was typing something out on her phone.

Fury turned back around and shook Steve’s hand again. “It was good to see you again, Steve.”

Steve nodded. “You too, sir.”

He watched them walk out of sight before going inside and flopping backwards onto the bed. The beer seemed to have completely left his system now, but Steve’s mind was too busy to try and regain that alcohol buzz.

After about half an hour of strenuous thinking, Steve felt a headache coming along and he still had no idea what he was going to do. He let out a frustrated groan before rolling on his side and squeezing his eyes shut. He’d decide his next move after a much needed nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr, also at sassembled. Thanks again for reading!


	3. The Other Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter right away, mainly to detract from the dramatic first chapter. This is from Bucky's POV!
> 
> UPDATE (Dec. 14, 2015): Formerly chapter 2.

_Eastbound on the H-1 freeway, Honolulu, HI_  
_10 hours later, 0700 hours_

Detective Sergeant James Barnes was in a shitty mood today. Granted, he was in a shitty mood nearly every day, mainly because every day he was trapped on this damn rock in the middle of fucking nowhere. He didn’t understand why people would willingly live here. He could understand staying briefly for a vacation, and he supposed the weather was half decent. But at what cost? His crappy apartment still cost him an arm and a leg, and the sky-high gas prices weren’t much better. And don’t get him started on the rush hour traffic, a significant contribution to his shitty day. Which, unsurprisingly, was what he was currently experiencing.

“What’s wrong, Bucky?”

James’s face instantly lit up at the endearing nickname. Even the hellish traffic on the H-1 (why the hell does Hawaii, a group of _islands_ , have _interstates_?) couldn’t completely ruin his day when his beautiful little girl was with him.

“Nothing, Gracie,” he replied with as much cheerfulness as he could muster. Grace didn’t need to experience all of his negative vibes. “I just don’t want you to be late for show & tell.”

He also had to drive to work after he dropped Grace off at school, but even though none of the other detectives nor his boss really cared about punctuality—something to do with being on “Hawaiian Time”?—James wasn’t fond of being late. If he was back home in New York, James would simply lean on his car horn and plow his way through. In this oh-so-wonderful city, though, he had to resist because 1) he need to set a good example for Grace, and 2) the last time he even touched his car horn earned him dozens of dirty stares from the other drivers. (He later realized that the locals were disgusted by car horns and his sanity.)

James knew that it was more practical for Grace’s mom, his amazingly evil ex-wife, to take their daughter to school instead. But ever since the divorce, he was adamant in spending as much time with his daughter as he could—that’s why he moved out here in the first place, after all. So if he had to experience this torturous traffic every morning just for some quality time with Grace, hell, he’d take it.

From his peripherals, James could see Grace shrug half-heartedly at his reply as she continued to stare at the tiny white bunny in the cage on her lap (courtesy of the ex-wife’s boyfriend). (James had bought a huge stuffed rabbit for her show & tell, but had stuffed it quickly in the back seat and out of sight when he saw that he had been one-upped.)

“I don’t mind,” she mumbled, more to the bunny than to James. “I can be late.”

James frowned. He thought Grace would be ecstatic to show off the little furball to her classmates. “Aren’t you excited for show & tell?”

“Yeah, but if I’m late, I get to spend more time with you.”

Immediately, James felt his mood go from downright shitty to overwhelmingly elated. “I like spending time with you too, monkey. And I promise we can spend the whole entire weekend together, okay? How does the beach sound?” He had already mentally prepared himself to go on a surprise beach trip with Grace anyway.

James turned to his daughter as she beamed up at him, obviously content with this plan.

“Okay!”

Eventually, the traffic moved enough for James to slip out at their exit, and they drove around for a few more minutes before pulling up to Grace’s school just in time. He held the bunny while she collected her backpack and lunch (as much as he hated the animal, James knew his daughter would be distraught if she accidentally dropped the little thing; besides, it was kind of cute…), then gave her a quick hug and kiss and watched as she hurried into the school building, waving to her just before she was out of sight.

Just as he was relishing in his fatherly pride, his happiness quickly wore off when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He fished it out and sighed when the caller ID showed that it was the HPD crime lab. Well, his workday had to start eventually, and James reluctantly he answered the call.

“This is Barnes…”


	4. The Haole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of completing my first grad school midterm, here’s a new chapter that I was planning on posting this weekend! Though it's not very eventful except for the introduction of a new main character.
> 
> Sorry if the pidgin is a little difficult to understand! I did my best to type out how it actually sounds, and I even left some words (like “the”) as they’re actually spelled so it wouldn’t be complete gibberish. It may help to read it aloud, but feel free to let me know if translations are needed.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Honolulu Police Department, Downtown Honolulu_  
_Present day_

James could feel his blood pressure rising by the second. Right after dropping Grace off at school, he had gotten a call saying that the latest lab results on potential evidence were completed. And each result turned out to be a dead end.

It has been five days since the Joseph Rogers murder, and every single lead that he’s found since he was put in charge of the case has been useless. His captain was getting increasingly restless at James’s lack of results—not that he could blame him, of course. Even a guy as non-Hawaiian as him could tell that the former Deputy Chief Joseph Rogers was a hero in these parts. While James usually worked best under pressure (courtesy of his New York upbringing), his lack of results was just making this case downright stressful.

His stress must have shown because a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Trouble in paradise, mainlander?”

James wearily looked up from the latest evidence report disaster. His partner was grinning at her own “hilarious” joke, but James could see a hint of sympathy for him in her eyes.

He shoved the paper to the side of his desk, not wanting to look at a physical representation of his failure, and leaned back in his chair. “Since day one, Tasha, you know that.”

Natasha’s grin turned into an understanding smile. She was the only other detective in the precinct that worked well with a “mainlander” (for some reason, it irritated him when people called him that, so Natasha loved doing it) like James, most likely because she had experienced his position before. Her experience might have happened nearly a decade ago, but James could tell that she had an idea of what he was going through. She’s even taught him a thing (more like two hundred things) about the local etiquette. Still, between James’s tie-wearing necessity and Natasha’s flaming red hair, the two of them still stood out like a couple sore thumbs.

She sat on his desk and picked up the pathetic evidence report, scanning it quickly with her eyes. “Any good news yet?”

James shook his head mechanically. “Absolutely nothing. Just another reason for the captain to regret putting the mainlander—,” he searched his brain for the word that the people he arrested tended to call him, “—‘ _how-lee_ ’ in charge of this case.”

Natasha rolled her eyes a bit, but she didn’t bother looking up from the report. “You worry too much, James.”

Before James could reply, one of the other detectives interrupted. 

“Eh, Pauahi!” A small woman approached them with a thick stack of folders.

Natasha looked up from the report to smile at her. “Hey Lani, what’s up?”

To all of their coworkers, Detective Natasha Romanoff was, apparently, a badass. From what he understood, sometime before James showed up, Natasha had singlehandedly done some serious damage to a major crime ring on the island. Natasha never told James exactly what had happened, and there seemed to be an unofficial ban on talking about it. Whatever had happened, the local detectives bestowed her with the name “Pauahi”, and James had no idea what that meant.

“Get mail for you,” the woman said as she handed over a thin stack of folders to Natasha. James recognized the woman as one of the friendlier and social detectives in the precinct (even though most of them were more friendly and social than he was used to) and that she was one of the smartest ones there. She was also one of the few that Natasha referred to on a first name basis. James, on the other hand, knew her as Johnson.

“Thanks, Lani.” As Natasha looked through the folders, Johnson turned to James.

“Eh, Sarge, you get one new tie or sometin’? Looks fancy.”

He knew she was smart, but he still had trouble understanding what she was saying. After mentally translating her Pidgin English, he looked down at the tie he was wearing. It was actually one of his older ones that he had worn last week; the color was even fading on the edges. But James supposed all his ties were a novelty since he was the only person who ever wore one.

“Nah, but I haven’t worn it in a while,” he replied, bending the truth a little.

Johnson nodded in response. “Looks good.” She turned back to Natasha. “Also, Lukela wen say he wanna talk to you guys.”

James sighed as he stood up, mentally bracing himself for a round of disappointing his boss at their lack of progress.

“Great,” Natasha said, equally as enthused. “You know what about?”

Johnson shrugged. “Dunno. He neva say. ‘Bout the Rogers case, I t'ink.”

James groaned at this, before quickly adding, “Thanks, Johnson.”

“No problem, Sarge. Good luck!”

He waited for Johnson to leave before turning to Natasha. “What the hell are we gonna tell him? He wanted this thing solved two days ago, Nat.”

“Relax, James,” she said soothingly, but James could tell she was a little nervous as well. The great “Pauahi” wasn’t known to take this long to wrap up a case, given all of the resources at their disposal. “We just tell him what we’ve got. And if we need to we can make it sound better than it actually is.”

James sighed. He didn’t enjoy stretching the truth to his boss, but Natasha was so good at it that she could even convince _him_ that her bullshit was completely true. “Fine. But you’re taking the lead on this then.”

“What’s new?” she grinned before hopping off his desk and leading the way to the captain’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter seems out of place. It's mainly meant to establish the setting and the culture here since it will come up later in the story. It gets better, I promise! Thanks for bearing with me!
> 
> If anyone’s curious, Lani Johnson is supposed to be Skye/Daisy Johnson, where Lani is a common Hawaiian name that means heaven or sky. Since her actress (Chloe Bennet) is mixed-race, as a lot of people in Hawaii are, I pictured that her counterpart in this story would be the same, this time with a little Hawaiian as well. (Thanks, Trev, for the inspiration!) Will she be a recurring character? Only time will tell…
> 
> Cultural lesson! Someone who speaks pidgin doesn’t necessarily not know proper English. It usually just denotes a chill, laid-back personality. It’s also is acceptable in several work environments, from my experience.
> 
> The word that Bucky's referring to is _haole_ which literally means foreigner but is now considered synonymous with "white people". It's actually pronounced more like “how-leh”, but most people say “how-lee”, like how Bucky sounded it out! It can be both endearing and insulting, in my opinion, depending on context. But I’ve seen it mostly used as a factual statement, just like if someone said something like “that American is tall” but instead said “that _haole_ is tall”.
> 
> I have never seen or heard the mainland United States referred to as “the states” by Hawaii people. Not on the news, not in the paper—nowhere. On a related not, I had no idea what “the states” meant for at least a decade.
> 
> Regarding Natasha’s nickname, from what I know it’s supposed to be an honor to receive a Hawaiian name (and not just from some internet name generator), especially if you are not Hawaiian yourself. _Pau_ means finished—people may ask “all pau?” which basically means “all done?”. _Ahi_ means fire—it’s different from _ʻahi_ (with the apostrophe-like _ʻokina_ at the front) which is tuna. Translations of Pauahi are “destroyed by fire” and “to put out a fire”.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as sassembled!
> 
> UPDATE (Dec. 7): This chapter's been haunting me (not an exaggeration) ever since I posted it 5 months ago so I decided to finally edit it.


	5. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized how much I disliked that last chapter (note to self: don't post things when you're half-asleep), so here's another relatively long and very important chapter for the weekend. Enjoy!

_Rogers House, ʻĀina Haina_

While Nat’s bullshit managed to appease their captain for a few more hours, that meant James had to produce actual results during their borrowed time, and fast. Captain Lukela had mentioned that the victim’s son had arrived in Honolulu last night from South Korea, and James was interested in questioning him. The problem was that no one knew where he was staying in the meantime. But James had an idea of where the man had to stop by eventually, which was how he found himself parked in front of the scene of the crime, chewing on a stale bagel for breakfast. He had looked over the son’s profile when he had gotten the case, checking for any ties to possible murder suspects. From what he understood, Steve Rogers was the type of person who never backed down from a challenge, and James would be surprised if the man didn’t show up to conduct his own investigation.

But what had really grabbed James’s attention from that profile wasn’t Captain Rogers’s extensive list of qualifications and accomplishments—it was his picture. And not because the man in photo was surprisingly attractive (alright, that may have been a factor), but it was his damn smile. This guy was an army captain who has successfully completed who knows how many top secret missions all around the world, and here his was smiling like a fucking ray of sunshine for his military ID picture. It was adorable.

Though that definitely was not important right now. The man just lost his father, and James wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t about to go flirting with the guy no matter how difficult it was. (Besides, the good captain was most likely not into guys anyway.) Honestly, he would’ve been glad to let Nat do most of the talking if he were to run into Captain Rogers, but she had to be somewhere else just as they were about to leave the station. Whatever she had to do, it seemed urgent, and Bucky knew better than to question it.

So he waited alone, parked across the street from the house and munching on his pathetic idea of a meal. James stared at the house, lost in thought; while the Rogers house seemed like it could’ve been one of those warm-and-cozy homes, it sure didn’t look it right now. The yellow crime scene tape stuck out horribly as it wrapped around the front porch, and every single curtain was pulled shut to block out the warm sun. It looked pretty sullen, actually. 

James continued to watch the house and the rest of the street as he ate, wondering what kind of approach he should take in talking to Captain Rogers, when he saw a shadow moving inside the house. James froze mid-chew. If it was Rogers in there, he would have come through the front door like a normal human being and James would’ve seen him. But if it was someone else, the murderer, maybe…

He threw the half-eaten bagel on the passenger’s seat and scrambled out of the car, his adrenaline steadily rising. Carefully, he shut the car door and crept towards the house. Even though the curtains were drawn, James knew that his silhouette could probably be seen from the inside. The shadow of the person inside was in the living room, so James approached from the other end of the house. He positioned himself next to the nearest window and listened closely as he reached for his holstered gun.

Silence. Then soft footsteps treaded on the wooden floors and grew slightly louder as they made their way past James’s window and towards the garage. Whoever they were, they seemed to be looking for something. And the investigation had suggested several possible motives, one of them was that the murderer was looking for information but couldn’t find it. If that was the case, the murderer getting that information could be disastrous, and it was James’s job to prevent that. While he would’ve felt a hell of a lot better if Natasha was there to have his back, he had to apprehend this person as soon as possible.

Remembering that the front door made an awful squeaking noise on his last visit, James hurried quietly to the back of the house. The patio looked almost completely untouched, with the exception of the yellow tape that was torn off the sliding door. James drew his gun before he slipped inside the house. Most of the scene looked as untouched as when he had last seen it: books and papers scattered across the floor, tables and vases broken from the struggle of a fight, and the very visible splatter of blood on both the floor and the adjacent wall. The first unusual thing that caught his eye was an open can of ginger ale on the dining table, its sides coated with condensation. The second thing was a patch of white dust on the desk against the wall. It seemed to be highlighting a set of fingerprints, ones that James knew his team failed to catch earlier.

A loud clang of metal from the garage rang throughout the house. James eyes snapped to the hallway leading to the garage. He really, really wished Nat was here. Slowly, he crept in that direction, the sound of movement growing louder as he got closer—

_THUD_

James swore loudly in his head. He had walked straight into this fucking little good-for-nothing table in the hallway, and there was no way his presence would’ve gone unnoticed. Now with his gun raised and his finger poised above the trigger, he quickly made his way into the garage just as another man turned towards him and drew his gun.

“Drop the weapon!” James ordered, but the other man—damn, he was quick—already had it raised.

“Who are you?” the man yelled back.

“Who am I? Who are _you_?” This guy wasn’t a police officer that James knew, and he obviously didn’t notice the yellow tape _all around the fucking house_. “I’m _Detective_ James Ba—!”

“Captain Steve Rogers!” the man yelled back. “This is my dad’s house.”

Well, shit. James could see the resemblance from the ID picture, now that he mentioned it, but the guy in front of him looked awful. While he kind of felt sorry for the captain, his wrecked and reckless appearance was even more of a reason for James not to lower his own weapon.

“Captain, put your weapon down right n—!” James commanded, before he was interrupted yet again.

“No, you put yours down first!”

Was this guy an army captain or a kid? “Drop the weapon and put your hands up—!”

“I’m not dropping it ‘til you do—!”

“Put it down!”

“You first!”

For a few more seconds, their back-and-forth shouting match continued until James couldn’t hear the words coming out of his own mouth. This was going nowhere.

“Show me your ID then,” James said in a much calmer voice after the shouting died down.

“I’m not putting my weapon down, you first. My house, my rules.” And Captain Steven Rogers was officially a child.

But James had a ten-year old. He knew how things worked. “Yeah, well I asked first.”

“Show me your badge, _please_ ,” Rogers retorted. “There, now I asked nicer.”

Okay, never mind. This guy was worse than a ten-year old. “I’m not putting my gun down.”

“If you use your free hand then you don’t have to.”

“Oh, okay then, after you.”

Rogers huffed in irritation at this response, clearly having run out of sassy comebacks. “At the same time then?”

“‘ _At the same time_ ’??”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“What, like on the count of three?” James asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, great idea. On the count of three.”

“Well, alright then.” James paused for a second. “One…”

Both men released one hand from their guns.

“Two…”

Their free hands reached for their pockets, never taking their eyes off of each other.

“Three…”

They each pulled out their identification. James recognized the active duty military ID with Steve’s fucking ray-of-sunshine smile from across the room.

Both men let out exhausted sighs as they holstered their guns and pocketed their IDs. Now that Rogers was more relaxed, James had an easier time recognizing him. Still, Rogers was a mess—he was wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and grimy jeans (and James absolutely did not notice how fitted both articles of clothing were), he had dark shadows under his slightly red eyes, and his hair stuck up in every direction. Even after their childish argument, James felt sorry for the guy.

“Look, I’m sorry about what happened to your dad,” he began, moving closer to Rogers. “But you can’t be here right now. This is an active crime scene.”

Rogers narrowed his eyes at him. “‘Active,’ huh?” He made a point to look around at all the people that weren’t there. “Sure looks like it.”

James elected to ignore the sass for the sake of his sanity. “I’m sorry, I can’t share any details about the investigation with you, but—”

“Did you even know there were two people here? When my dad was killed.”

Truthfully, no, James didn’t know that. And he didn’t know how Rogers knew that. But he wasn’t about to let the guy know that.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, Captain, please leave.”

Rogers glared at him harshly, and James felt it was only right to stare back with equal intensity. Sure, he felt bad for the guy, but this was self-defense… for his pride. Besides, he was just trying to do his job, and Rogers was interfering with that.

“Fine,” Rogers finally conceded, easing his glare. He lifted a dusty, rusted red toolbox off the counter. “I’m leaving.”

James stepped in front of him. “You can leave the toolbox.”

“But I came here with this,” Rogers replied with a tone that mixed innocence and sass, then stepped past Barnes and towards the door.

“No, you didn’t. There’s a layer of dust on it, and a missing patch of dust on the counter.”

Rogers paused and turned, staring at him with mock awe. “Wow, great detective work. No wonder you’re in charge of my dad’s case. How long have you been with HPD?”

Okay, that was a low blow. James didn’t think he looked like that much of a mainlander. In fact, he thought Rogers looked even more like a mainlander than he did.

“That’s none of your business.”

But Rogers, probably seeing how much the question irked James, wouldn’t let it go. “I’m going to guess that you’ve been here for less than six months.”

Five, actually. James narrowed his eyes. “Leave the box or get arrested.”

Rogers gave him an incredulous look. “Should I wait for you to call for backup first?”

“No, but I could call an ambulance for you, if you want.”

Honestly, James doubted that he could singlehandedly take on Rogers. The man was definitely stronger than James, not to mention that he was a _captain_ in the fucking _army_. Then again, he also looked completely hungover, so that had to be some kind of advantage.

Luckily, though, Rogers seemed to give in as he put the toolbox on the ground.

“Thank you,” James said, grateful he wouldn’t be getting in a fight today.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Rogers replied, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

James watched, suspicious, as Rogers dialed in a number and brought the phone to his ear.

 _One sec_ , Rogers mouthed mockingly, holding up his index finger on his free hand for emphasis. James resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Hi,” Rogers said to the phone a few seconds later. “May I please speak to Lieutenant Governor Fury? Tell him it’s Steve Rogers.”

 _Seriously?_ Oh my god, James wanted to punch this guy already. He didn’t care how attractive he was.

To make things worse, Rogers then put the call on speaker.

_“This is Fury. Captain Rogers, what can I do for you?”_

“Fuckin’ hell…” James sighed, turning his back to Rogers and crossing his arms. He was getting a headache just looking at him.

Rogers took the phone off speaker before continuing his conversation, thankfully. “I’d like to take the job, sir.” A pause. “Immediately, if I can.” Pause. “There’s no need, sir, I’d like to pick the members of this task force.”

 _Task force?_ James turned to stare at the other man. Rogers was going to running a fucking task force around the island? Interfering with even more investigations? James might as well move back to New York already.

“Wait, right now?” Another pause. “Well, okay then.” Rogers eyed James before turning his back to him, moving the phone to his left hand and raising his right. “I, Steven Rogers, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend…”

James threw his hands in the air in an are-you-kidding-me gesture even though Rogers couldn’t see him. This fucker was taking the oath of office in the middle of his crime scene.

Once he finished and hung up, Rogers turned back to James. James expected the man to be rubbing the victory in his face, but Rogers wore an expression that was more determined than smug.

“Now it’s my crime scene,” Rogers declared harshly before he strode out of the garage, his hand firmly gripping the toolbox handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr at sassembled!


	6. Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's Aloha Friday, no work 'til Monday!"
> 
> New character introduced! Things are still a little slow though.
> 
> Not sure how you all feel about the Pidgin English, but this chapter has more of the slang words along with the accent. See some word translations in the end notes!

_Task Force Headquarters, Downtown Honolulu_

It had only taken a couple of hours to transfer all files related to Steve’s dad’s case over to the headquarters of his new task force. He had to hand it to Fury; the man knew how to get stuff done fast. So fast that Steve didn’t have a team together yet.

He sighed deeply as he looked slowly around the new office space. There wasn’t much furniture yet—those would arrive tomorrow, apparently—but Steve could imagine it would still be decently spacious even with a bunch of desks and chairs. The abundance of windows lit the place up nicely too, quelling Steve’s worries about being cramped in a dungeon while trying to take on the bad guys of Hawaii.

At that thought, he nervously bit his lip. While he wasn’t too worried about how he’d do in future cases, he was concerned about his present case—his dad’s. Steve was normally pretty confident about his ability to get the job done, but this was different. This case meant more to him than any other assignment he’s had, and what if he could never figure out who was behind his death? Steve knew he gave that “Detective James B.” (he kind of interrupted the man’s self-introduction) a lot of shit about his poor investigative abilities (and then basically seized the case from his hands), but now he was wondering if he could even do a better job.

The red CHAMPION toolbox was his only lead; his dad had called him “champ” over the phone just before he… and, well, he never called him that before then. He figured it must’ve had some kind of clues, but the items inside weren’t very useful: an old key, a list of seemingly random numbers, and about a dozen pictures of various murder scenes. From these items, all he could tell was that his dad seemed to be conducting his own investigation—of what, Steve had no idea, and that was no help. He hadn’t even been able to get a match off the fingerprint he found back at home…

Home… Steve felt his stomach churn uncomfortably at the memory of it. He had expected it to be bad, but once again he had definitely been unprepared. Seeing the splatters of blood that he knew were his dad’s, plus the fact that it covered the walls that were so familiar to him, had made him feel sick. Steve barely remembers rushing to the kitchen to take a breather and grab something fizzy to settle his stomach. Even after that, he actively avoided looking in that general area, but the image was still burned into his memory.

With that, Steve knew he couldn’t do this case alone. He needed a fresh pairs of eyes, ones that didn’t see every single part of this case as _personal…_

After a moment of thought, he made a phone call.

_“HPD, Captain Lukela speaking.”_

“Hi, Captain, this is Steve Rogers from the governor’s new task force.”

_“Oh, right, Joe’s kid! Your dad always speak plenty ‘bout you. I hope you get bettah luck in catchin’ da buggah, yeah?”_

Steve gave a small smile at this. Hearing the familiar dialect of Hawaii, he felt his authoritative-army-captain English make way for the more comfortable speech pattern. “That’s what I’m callin’ ‘bout actually. I met one detective on the case today. James, I think?”

_“Mainlander, yeah? Yeah, dat’s Detective Sergeant James Barnes. He was in charge of your dad’s case. Came from da kine New York couple months back.”_

Just like he thought. Because really, a long-sleeved collared shirt and a tie? Definitely not local. (The outfit did look good on him though…)

“What can you tell me ‘bout ‘em?”

_“He’s good at his job, yeah, but I t’ink he hates it. Living here, I mean.”_

Steve frowned. Maybe he was biased but he didn’t think he could trust anyone who hated Hawaii. “But he won’t move back?”

_“Nah. Family stuff, I t’ink. Good detective, but. Just doesn’t know how relax, you know?”_

Steve nodded, mostly to himself. It’s been years since he’s felt relaxed that he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to do so too.

“He close to anybody else in HPD?”

 _“Nah. Just dis one_ wahine _, his partner. Detective Natasha Romanoff. She been on the island fo’… nine... ten years, maybe? So she been teaching him all kine. Still, he get choke to learn. They’re a good team, though, those two. Why? You wanna work wit dem?”_

“Maybe,” Steve answered truthfully. “Still not sure yet. Thanks for the info though, Captain.”

_“Nah, no problem! From one captain to da other, yeah?” The man chuckled heartily into the phone. “You take care now, you hear?”_

Steve thanked the man again before he hung up. While he was considering asking Barnes for help with the case (and this Detective Romanoff too, by association), he didn’t think he could work with the man right away. Especially when he was still slightly hungover from the night before. (After his nap yesterday, Steve ended up finishing off the rest of his beers in quick succession—big mistake.) He needed someone he got along with, who had either police or military background, who could hold their own in a fight, and, most importantly, someone he could trust…

Suddenly, a single name came to mind. He blamed his hangover for not thinking of it sooner.

He locked up the office before heading downstairs and out to the street, calling for a cab on the way (Steve may have been away for a while but he still remembered that not many taxis hung around that area). Once he did, he sent out a text, feeling slightly less worried than he had been a few minutes ago.

\--------------------

Steve was waiting at a table in a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant when he heard the familiar voice.

“Well, if isn’t the running man!”

Grinning widely, Steve stood up as the other man approached the table.

“Nice to see you too, Sam,” Steve greeted, holding out his hand. “Thanks for meeting me here so last minute.”

Sam grinned back as he shook Steve’s hand briefly, just before pulling him into a rough hug. “What, man? Been away too long to forget that we hug everyone over here?”

Even though Sam Wilson wasn’t born in Hawaii like Steve, he moved here when he 10 years old. They hadn’t met until a few years ago, though, when both of them were stationed briefly in D.C.—Steve for the Army, Sam for the Air Force—and happened to have the same jogging route. Then they became friends once Steve lapped Sam a few times.

“I guess so,” Steve laughed, feeling more relaxed already. “Anyway, you want anything to eat? My treat.”

“Well then, I’m getting a week’s worth of food if you’re buyin’,” Sam joked before examining the menu.

After they both ordered and got their food, they caught up with each other's lives for a bit. Sam seemed careful not to bring up Steve’s dad; likewise, Steve was careful not to bring up the reasoning behind Sam leaving the Air Force. Steve wasn’t sure how to bring up the task force to Sam because that would mean having to bring up his dad. Luckily, Sam saved him the trouble.

They were about halfway through their food when Sam stepped in. “Alright, so not that I don’t mind free food and catchin’ up with friends and all that nice stuff, but I’m guessing you called me here for somethin’ else. Let me guess—it’s got to do with you lookin’ like complete shit, yeah?”

Steve cringed. “That bad?”

“Unbelievably. But hey, at least that handsome mug of yours would distract most normal people anyway.”

Steve sighed, putting down his fork. There was no use avoiding it. “Did you hear about my dad?”

Judging by Sam’s sympathetic look, he definitely had. He nodded grimly. “Sorry about that, man. From what I heard, he sounded like a good guy. How you holdin’ up?”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve been worse,” he said honestly, thinking back to when he was 10 years old and it was his mom instead of his dad. “But thanks for not bringing it up.”

“Didn’t want to until you did.” Sam took a drink of his soda before continuing. “You need me to help with anythin’, I’m right here.”

Steve nodded. “There’s one thing actually, but it’s probably not what you’re thinking of.”

“Really? And what’s that?”

He paused for a moment, wondering how to begin. “Well, the people responsible for… my dad are apparently responsible for a lot of other crimes around Honolulu. The governor’s office is concerned, so they’ve asked me to start a… well, a kind of group to put a stop to it.”

Sam stares at him with a suspicious look in his eyes. “A group,” he repeats simply.

“Yeah.”

“To take down evil crime lords.”

“What? Well, I mean, I guess so—”

“So like… a task force?”

“Well…” Steve shrugged as he looked back down at his food. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say that then?”

“I don’t know. It sounded too… forceful.” Truthfully, a part of Steve was worried that Sam would stay far away from anything that sounded too military-like, but he didn’t want to mention that.

“Steve, half of the phrase _is_ force. It’s literally half full of force.”

“I realize that now, thanks.”

“Yeah, well you shoulda realized that before you came up with that lame-ass excuse for why you’re tryin’ to tone it down on me.”

Steve looked up at that, worried that Sam might have been insulted. But no, the man was all cheeky grins instead.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said, probably seeing Steve’s worry.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Really, Steve, don’t worry about it.” Sam stabbed at his food as if to establish the end of that discussion. “So, you’re askin’ me to join your super-secret boy band?”

Steve laughed, forgetting his previous worry. “Yeah. Except it’s not really secret and it may not be just guys—we’re the only two members so far.”

“And you came to me first. I’m so honored I can’t say no now.”

He knew Sam was joking, but Steve felt he had to clarify. “You can say no, if you want. I can’t ask you to do this, Sam.” _You got out for a good reason…_

Sam seemed to hear Steve’s unspoken words as he nodded solemnly. “I know that. But you need my help. There’s no better reason to get back in.” Sam looked to him resolutely. “When do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "buggah" = "guy"  
> "da kine" = literally "the kind"; it could mean anything really, it's supposed to be vague and the definition varies depending on context  
> "wahine" = Hawaiian word for "woman" or "women"  
> "choke" = "plenty" or "lots"
> 
> Find me on tumblr as sassembled!


	7. Tater Tot Nachos, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! I've had a busy past few weeks and only managed to get this out now. It's a little messy, but I hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> Note: food and alcohol are both in this chapter.

_James’s Apartment, McCully_

James normally had a high tolerance for anger. He’d admit he has been a little grumpy ever since moving to the islands (okay, a lot grumpy), but he could normally keep his anger in check. Except for now, that is. And all because of one man.

In retrospect, Steven Rogers didn’t even deserve the title of a man because he was a _fucking child_. A sassy, infuriating, very well-toned, not-so-little brat. And it pissed James off.

After leaving the Rogers house (that wasn’t his crime scene anymore, thank you very much, _Steven_ ), James had tried to call Nat, hoping he could let off some steam (and how could anyone so good-looking be so goddamn awful?), but her phone had gone straight to voicemail. Then, Captain Lukela called to confirm that all of the Joseph Rogers case files were at the precinct so they could be transferred to the oh-so-wonderful Captain Steven G. Rogers. To make matters even worse, the ex-wife called asking if Grace could spend the weekend with her. This meant James had to spend the next 30 minutes in a random parking lot saying that no, she couldn’t force Gracie to go to some boring-ass dinner party with her because _he_ had custody of her this weekend, and they had a very, very special beach trip planned.

( _“James, please, you hate the beach more than you hate me,”_ she had replied.

James couldn’t decide if she was right or not.)

After reaffirming his rightful weekend custody of their daughter by threatening to involve lawyers (as well as guilt-tripping his ex-wife with the possibility of Grace’s heartbroken face when she found out beach-weekend was canceled), the incident in the Rogers house was nearly forgotten. And Steve Rogers seemed innocent and perfect compared to his demon ex-wife.

When he returned to work, though, James was reminded all over again about how pissed off he was, specifically at Steve Rogers. His anger must have shown too, because 30 minutes later Lukela came out of his office to tell James to take the rest of the day off. While James wasn’t normally one to ditch work on a shitty day, he could tell that his occasional huffs of anger and slamming things onto his desk weren’t helping anyone. So he decided to take his captain’s suggestion and call it quits for the day.

But with his daughter still in school (demon-ex was supposed to pick her up anyway) and his one and only friend gone to who knows where, the only place he felt like going was back to his crappy little apartment. And if he happened to stop and grab a plate lunch and some beers, no one would have to know.

So that’s why he found himself locked up in his crappy apartment in McCully with a pack of chilled Longboards in front of him and not one but _three_ take-out plates piled high with his secretly-favorite local foods. (He may have hated Hawaii but he had to admit they had some pretty good food—except spam. You could not pay him to touch spam.) He arranged the food feast-like on his tiny coffee table before sprawling out onto his couch in front of it and the TV.

After his horribly eventful morning, though, he felt more exhausted than frustrated. So he only made it through half of a plate and a single beer before dozing off into a fitful sleep.

\--------------------

When James woke up, it was already getting dark outside. He hadn’t even realized he fell asleep, but he felt a hell of a lot better now that he did.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he leaned over the back of the couch to flick on the lights. He must have fell asleep with his fork in his hands because now it was lying on the dingy rug, still holding on to bits of food. James sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He’d deal with that shit later.

Suddenly, his cell phone buzzed from where it sat next to his single emptied beer. When the screen lit up, he saw what had woken him up: 24 unread texts from Natasha. He opened them, guessing he had an idea of what her little monologue was about.

_Hey sorry got busy_

_Important shit. Top secret. Classy-fied._

_Get it? Bc I’m classy as fuck_

_What’s up?_

_Alright, ignore me. See if I care._

_I’m heading back to the precinct. Better have a good reason for ignoring me._

_Holy shit_

_WHAT THE FUCK_

_What happened to our case Barnes?????_

_Where the hell are you??? Lukela said you left hours ago_

_Answer your damn phone Barnes_

_You’re being moody again aren’t you_

_I bet you’re crashed out on your crappy couch_

_With that local food you won’t admit to loving_

_Haole_

James rolled his eyes. These messages had been sent shortly after he fell asleep, he guessed. The ones after them, though, were sent within the last ten minutes:

_Alright today’s been a rough day. Home bar at 8?_

_Oh come on you have to be awake by now_

_I know you’re at home_

_You could walk here easily_

_Your tater tot nachos are waiting_

_And your darts_

_And most importantly…_

There was a selfie of Natasha with an angelic look on her face and a pocket knife brandished threateningly in her hand.

_So get your ass over here_

James couldn’t help but laugh. He seriously would’ve gone crazy months ago if it wasn’t for Natasha. He sent her a quick text back to say that he’d be there, and then he started to pack away his leftover food. His better mood also helped him clean up the mess on the floor, which was saying something.

When he finished cleaning up, Natasha had already texted back.

_About damn time, sleeping beauty_

_Don’t be late_

_Be early in fact_

_And look presentable_

James narrowed his eyes at this. What the hell was Nat thinking?

 _What for??_ he replied.

 _Company’s coming,_ was all she responded with.

And with that, all James could think of was that she was setting him up on yet another blind date. His hate for them was right up there with his ex-wife and, now, Steve Rogers.

After a few more attempts to get Natasha to tell him what exactly was going on, with Natasha ignoring him every single time, James gave up and decided to just do what she says. He supposed his day couldn’t get much worse than it already had. And if it did, there was beer. And his tater tot nachos.

\--------------------

_Home Bar, Ala Moana_

James got to the bar ten minutes before 8, but Natasha was already there, holding their favorite table right next to the dart boards. Which was surprising, since the place was packed.

Home Bar had to be his favorite bar on the island. But anyone who was acquainted with James wouldn’t expect to see him in this place, mainly because the atmosphere was so… _local_. The air was filled with the shouts of Pidgin English, and there seemed to be a dress code of T-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops. Even the menu was more Hawaiian than James would ever be—all of the food items were island favorites and had names with phrases of the local dialect.

But even though everything seemed so foreign to James, he kind of liked it. He may hate living in this state, but he found the people (besides the criminals he arrests, of course) to make it—well, he wouldn’t say enjoyable, but it was bearable. And he could always count on this place to be filled with these very types of people. Plus, he preferred the bright lights of Home Bar over the dimly lit atmospheres of other places anyway.

Natasha immediately spotted James, and even from across the room he could tell that her smile was suspiciously innocent looking. He didn’t know why, but he was starting to regret this already. Even though the thought of his favorite tater tot nachos were in his immediate future, he kind of wanted to high-tail it out of there. But then Natasha would kill him, _and_ he would be deprived of his tater tots. So he mentally braced himself and made his way over to Natasha.

“Alright,” he began, seating himself across from her. “What’s goin’ on here?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Natasha greeted, mocking bitterness.

“I mean it, Nat. Whaddya mean ‘company’s coming’? I’m really not in the mood for another one of your blind dates.”

“Oh, come on, James, those dates weren’t all bad.” Natasha thought for a moment. “What about Aya? That accountant? She was nice.”

“She wanted to do my taxes. After the first date.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Natasha frowned before returning to her thoughts again. “What about… what was that nurse’s name?”

“Kalei?” James shrugged. “He was alright, I guess. Except he kept asking questions and making comments on my personal hygiene.”

“Can’t say I’d blame him,” Natasha muttered as she not-so-subtly made a move to shield her nose with her hand.

“Some friend you are,” James grumbled.

As Natasha laughed at his sour face, a waitress came up to their table.

“You guys ready to order?” she asked, her pen already poised on a notepad.

“Tater tot nachos,” James said immediately.

“You got it,” the waitress replied with a friendly laugh. James was certain that they recognized him by now. “Anything to drink?”

As Natasha placed her order, James looked over his shoulder at the night’s drink specials. But he ended up staring for longer than normal because there, in the flesh, was _Steve fucking Rogers._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head's up: next chapter might take a little while too. (Sorry!) In the meantime, you can find me on tumblr at sassembled!
> 
> Side note: Home Bar is an actual bar with great tater tot nachos.


	8. Tater Tot Nachos, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! Here’s an extra-long chapter (relatively, at least) to make up for it. I ended up having some minor continuity errors (already??), but I think everything’s fine now. Enjoy!
> 
> (Note: Food and alcohol consumption in this chapter.)

_Kalākaua Avenue, Honolulu; en route to Home Bar  
10 minutes ago_

Steve had initially underestimated the effect that a shower, new change of clothes, and a quick power nap would have on him. After the impromptu lunch, Sam had insisted that neither of them were going to do any work until Steve accomplished each of these tasks. While Steve tried to put up a fight, he was too tired and eventually gave in to Sam’s mothering. As a result, he felt much better, even if he was still a bit restless. At least he didn’t look like “shit from the bottom of the Ala Wai Canal” anymore, as Sam had eloquently put it.

But one thing he and Sam didn’t agree on is whether or not they needed more help with this case. Steve knew that he was more than fine when Sam had his back. And so far, they’ve actually managed to track down some solid leads.

After Steve had freshened up, the two of them managed to relate the ballistics of the gun to two possible cases: the registration and stolen firearm report filed by a John Garrett, and a year-old unsolved bank robbery case. Since the robbery occurred a few months after the gun was reportedly stolen from Garrett, Steve and Sam agreed that it was probably the same weapon. Then Sam suggested that Garrett might have even been working with the robbers and only reported the gun as stolen to “cover his thieving ass.”

The initial investigators of the bank robbery had questioned Garrett about his whereabouts during the robbery. But Garrett’s alibi was as solid as it could get—he was at a party hosted by the governor himself. Still, there didn’t seem to be any investigation on the possibility that he willingly gave his gun to someone else to use in the robbery.

Only one other person was ever suspected in the robbery case, though, and he had a clean alibi: security cameras at the hotel he worked at showed him working the entire time of the robbery. But either men could still be or know the owner of that gun, and Steve’s task force duo was responsible to check all leads personally. The problem, as Sam reminded, was that if the men were working together, a visit to one of them could tip the other person off. And even though Steve was fine with splitting up, Sam was definitely not.

So Steve decided to contact the detectives that were formerly in charge of the case to ask for their help. But there was no way he was going to do that over the phone. He figured he was enough of an asshole for one day and it would better if he apologized and asked for help in person.

When they went to the station though, Barnes had already left. But they did talk to his partner Detective Natasha Romanoff. She was a friendly enough woman with a presence that commanded both respect and fear at the same time. She was more than happy to meet at a bar later that evening to talk more about working together, and that she’d even bring Barnes too. And while Steve wasn’t fond of discussing a case in a public area, he figured this would be the only chance he would have to speak with Barnes.

In Steve’s opinion though, the whole team-up was completely unnecessary.

“Steve, you are such a _lolo_ ,” Sam complained for the twentieth time since they’ve been in his car. “With a case like this, you need back-up! But no, you’re Captain Steve Rogers. Captain Steve Rogers doesn’t need back-up. He’s his own back-up. He probably makes criminals turn themselves in without a fight. With… I dunno, with the power of justice or some shit. That’s the only explanation as to why he thinks he _doesn’t need back-up_.”

“Alright, already, you’ve made your point,” Steve insisted from the passenger’s seat. He really wished he had his own car right now. He dug into his jeans pocket as Sam continued.

“Really? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure that you still want us to go on our own.”

He couldn’t disagree with that. Steve remained silent instead as he found a peppermint candy in his pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth.

Sam didn’t need a reply to continue. “This doesn’t have anything to do with that Barnes guy, does it?” They turned onto the road that the bar was on and immediately saw a full lot of cars. “Oh, shit, it’s packed. Street parking, it is. Keep an eye out, will ya?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows at Sam’s first question. He was still pissed at himself for how he acted towards Barnes, and he had mentioned that to Sam. Steve wanted to apologize of course, but he was sure Barnes was still mad at him for… well, everything that happened in the last 12 hours.

As they turned another corner, Steve spotted an empty space. “Is that one? And he won’t agree to help, you know.”

“You don’t—dammit, fire hydrant—you don’t know that. I’m sure he understands.” 

As they turned another corner, they finally found an open space. They parked in silence, and continued their conversation as they walked to the bar.

“I dunno, Sam, even Roma—Natasha—thought we needed this whole elaborate plan to meet here so we convince him to join us. Besides, I was a pretty huge ass to him.”

“The full Steve Rogers sass and everything? Damn, man, this might be tough then.”

“Hilarious, Wilson. You’re not helping.”

Sam laughed in response. And then more seriously he added: “Well, then I guess you’ll just have to prove that you’re not actually that huge of an ass. ‘Cause we both know that I am not letting us do this alone.”

They walked in silence for a bit. Steve was still thinking about all the situations that could play out with Barnes by the time the lighted “Home Bar” sign came into view.

“And if he still hates me after that?” Steve asked as they reached the bar entrance.

Sam reached for the door handle and grinned. “I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?” He held the door open and waved Steve inside. “After you, Captain Rogers.”

\--------------------

_Home Bar, Ala Moana  
Now_

Even though Steve expected Barnes to be mad at him, half of him actually expected the detective to be understanding and forgiving. So the full-on glare he received as soon as he walked into the bar was a pretty huge shock.

Detective Sergeant James Barnes obviously knew how to hold a grudge.

Trying to lighten the tension from across the room, Steve gave a small wave and smiled apologetically. While this seemed to soften Barnes’s glare, it was only for a second, and the look that followed was even harsher than before.

It finally let up when Detective Romanoff sharply kicked Barnes in the shin from under the table. Barnes winced at this, and turned obediently back around to face his partner and the waitress. Steve had only met Natasha earlier that day, but in the short time that he spent talking with her he was sure that he’d rather stay on her good side.

“Well, Cap,” Sam interrupted Steve’s thoughts. “Are we going to do this or what?”

While Steve was disappointed that Barnes was not immediately interested in forgive and forget, Steve wasn’t about to give up. He nodded determinedly before leading the way to the table.

At their arrival, Natasha and the waitress smiled at them warmly while Barnes stared stubbornly at the menu.

“Glad you could join us,” Natasha greeted. “We just ordered. Want anything? We already got tater tot nachos, but James will probably take care of it singlehandedly.”

“Tater tot nachos?” Sam repeated with a mixture of disbelieve and excitement in his voice. “That sounds like heaven. Make that two, please. Steve?”

Steve, who just realized he had been staring at Barnes the entire time, immediately averted his eyes to the waitress. “Uh… just a coke, thanks.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “You gonna be D.D. tonight?”

“Sure?”

Sam turned back to the waitress with a grin. “Then I’ll get a Heineken too, please.”

After the waitress left with their order, Sam turned to Steve, probably noticing the concern on his face. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna get shit-faced—we have a case to work on remember?”

At the mention of the case, Barnes scoffed loudly, his eyes still glaring at the menu.

The silence that followed was long and awkward, and thankfully it was interrupted by Natasha.

“The chairs are here for a reason, boys. You going to sit down or what?” 

But for a moment, Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to. If Barnes was really going to act like a child about this, Steve didn’t think he wanted him on the team. It’s not that he didn’t trust Barnes and his abilities. On the contrary, the man had Captain Lukela’s approval, and that would have been enough for his father so that was enough for Steve. But what Steve couldn’t get past was the fact that he and Barnes could never make a functional team. They obviously had naturally clashing personalities that would do more harm than good.

But he had to admit that his new task force could use Barnes, especially since he worked so well with Natasha. So Steve wasn’t planning on giving up just yet. 

So, naturally, Steve resolutely sat himself in the empty seat next to Barnes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barnes immediately look up from the menu and whip his head around to look at Steve in shock. In response, Steve prepared an award-winning innocent smile and flashed it at Barnes. This earned him another glare from the detective.

“James,” Natasha said sharply, her voice lined with unspoken threats. “This is Sam Wilson, a friend of Steve. Sam, this is my idiot partner and supposed sergeant-slash-superior James Barnes.”

Sam, who had just seated himself next to Natasha, politely smiled as he extended his hand across the table. “Nice to meet ya, Detective Barnes.”

Barnes gruffly shook his hand. “Likewise,” he mumbled.

At that moment, the waitress came by with their drinks: beers for Sam, Natasha, and Barnes, and a coke for Steve. Barnes quickly accepted his drink, taking a lengthy swig from the bottle. From across the table, Steve noticed Natasha take a deep breath as if she was trying to keep herself from strangling her partner right then and there.

Fortunately, Sam had the patience of a preschool teacher. Ignoring Barnes’s obvious disgust, he continued with the small talk. “Natasha told us you’re from New York? I actually spent some time there a few years back. Great place.”

At this, Barnes, to Steve’s surprise, lightened up a bit. “No kidding. Which part?”

“Westhampton, mainly.”

“Huh. I was a couple hours away in Brooklyn.”

“Nice. I made the drive down there a few times. There was this one place I always went to…”

As Sam and Barnes continued to talk about Brooklyn, along with the occasional input from Natasha, Steve noticed Barnes gradually becoming friendlier. By the end of his beer, the food came, and Barnes actually _smiled_ a little.

That’s how Steve found himself, once again, unknowingly staring at Barnes. But this time, his focus was on the man’s mouth. That small smile, even if it was occasionally blocked by the passing tater tot, held his attention so strongly that he only barely heard Sam mentioning his name about a minute later.

“Wha’?” Steve replied awkwardly, his focus immediately snapping to Sam. 

“You spent some time in Brooklyn, yeah?” Sam repeated, his facial expression silently urging Steve ‘don’t screw this up, Rogers’.

Steve looked to Barnes and was surprised to see the man looking at him expectantly rather than angrily. He had to admit Sam really had a way with people. (Plus, Barnes was nearly halfway through his serving of tater tot nachos.)

“Uh, yeah,” Steve said hurriedly, trying to gain his bearings. “Yeah, I was in Brooklyn for a coupla’ years.”

A slight pause followed before Steve realized he was supposed to explain himself.

“For boarding school,” he continued. “Didn’t see as much of the city as I should’ve, though.”

“Boarding school?” Barnes replied with a slight grin that caused Steve’s eyes to drift again. “Why the hell didja move across the country for _boarding school_?”

“Uh…” _Because my dad sent me_ , Steve thought. “Family stuff.”

Barnes nodded slowly as if he completely understood, then drained the rest of his second beer in one long swig.

Almost an hour later, Barnes had four drinks in him and was grinning like an idiot. And then there was his laugh—those two things must have been contagious because Steve was eventually grinning and laughing just as much as Barnes was. At first it wasn’t too bad, and Steve merely chuckled at the appropriate moments in the group’s conversation. But then Barnes let out the most grotesque snort in the middle of his perfect laugh, causing Steve to burst out laughing. If that wasn’t bad enough, Barnes started laughing—and snorting—even more. Soon, the whole group was laughing like a bunch of drunk kids, and for a moment, Steve had to admit that this Detective James Barnes may not have been as bad as he seemed. 

Because for the first time in ages, Steve felt like he was in a good place. After years of the army and the war, then his dad, and then the initial stress of this first case, he felt… happy? But it was more than just happiness; it was like that unexplainable joy he would occasionally feel when he was completely drunk, except now he was completely sober. And sober happiness was something Steve never thought he would experience again.

So of course it wouldn’t last very long.

“So, Steve,” Barnes—or James, since they were apparently on a first name basis now—began, a drunken grin stretched across his face. “If you were anything like you are now as a kid, you musta been the boarding school’s little angel. Or not ‘little’, I guess, with arms like yours…”

Sam and Natasha burst out laughing as Steve felt his face flush.

“I was actually pretty small as a kid,” Steve admitted, hiding his obviously blushing face with his glass of soda.

“And he’s definitely no angel,” Sam managed to add when his laughing subsided. “Wasn’t then, wasn’t now, from what I hear.”

James quirked an eyebrow and looked at Steve curiously as he popped another tater tot into his mouth, and Steve knew that an explanation was required.

“Well, I sorta ended up in all these… disagreements…”

“They were full-on fights, Rogers” Sam interjected. “And, from what I hear, you’re the one that started them.” He turned to the two detectives. “Apparently, even in elementary school, he’d always tell off the class bullies who were twice his size. And then they’d always beat ‘im up, but of course that didn’t stop this _lolo_.”

As James and Natasha laughed at this, Steve looked to Sam, puzzled. He was pretty sure he never told his friend any of this.

“How’d you know ‘bout all that?”

Sam grinned. “I got my sources, Rogers.”

Steve shook his head as he took a sip of his drink. He would get the answer out of his friend another day.

“So the admirable Captain Steven Rogers was a troublemaker, huh?” James continued with a laugh. “Who’d’ve thought?”

Steve let out a small laugh. Admirable? _Him?_ “Yeah, well, my dad was definitely not happy about—”

The words were out before he noticed what he was saying. And if he hadn’t stopped himself in a middle of a sentence, no one else might have noticed. But he had, so an abrupt silence lingered between the four of them.

After a few long seconds, Natasha interjected. “Alright, well someone has to say what we’re all thinking.” She turned to Steve and Sam, keeping her voice low to avoid potential eavesdroppers. “So, the case. Any new leads since we last spoke?”

Steve shook his head. He could feel James’s suspicious glare, but did his best to ignore it. “Still just those two guys.”

“Nat,” James began, and Steve noticed his tone grew much colder from a few seconds ago. “You’re _working_ with _them_?”

“More like we asked her to help us,” Sam interfered. “And we, Steve and I, were actually wondering if you could help us too.”

Silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see James staring at Sam, then Natasha, and then finally at Steve. After a few seconds, he sat back in his seat, taking a long swig of his drink as he did so.

“James…” Natasha started.

“Seriously, Nat?” James started, growing angrier by the second. “These are the dicks that just stole our case from us. And now you want to help them?”

“Technically, Steve stole your case,” Sam corrected. “I had nothing to do with that.”

Steve glared at Sam who simply shrugged his shoulders in reply.

“Whatever,” James replied, before turning to Steve. “So what, _now_ you want our help, _Captain_? What, the perfect soldier can’t handle it on his own anymore? Now you lookin’ to a coupla _mainlanders_ for help?”

Steve felt himself tense in anger. “No, I was lookin’ to some good cops for help. But I guess I came to the wrong place, huh?”

James paused for a moment to stare at him with disbelief that quickly turned into drunken hatred (which Steve obviously returned with a sober version) before finishing off his drink and slamming the empty bottle onto the table.

“Gonna get another drink,” James mumbled as he stood up before making his way to the bar.

“Sorry about him,” Natasha apologized, clearly not waiting for James to be out of earshot before doing so. “I really thought all this would make him act like an adult for a change—oh, are you fucking kidding me…”

Natasha was now looking over to the bar, and Steve followed suit. James had just finished taking a shot, and looked like he intended to order another one.

“What an idiot,” Natasha muttered as she made to stand up.

But Steve stood up first. “I got this,” he assured her before making his way to the bar.

Whether he could actually convince James to help them or not, Steve had no idea. What he did know was that (1) Sam required a minimum of four people on this task force, (2) having actual cops on this team would probably be useful, especially ones that were already familiar with this case, and (3) James Barnes had the potential to be a decent person and teammate.

“Barnes,” Steve began once he reached the man. But before he could continue, James ignored him and immediately left the bar, making his way across the room and ducking into the bathroom.

Steve followed close behind. If the detective was going in there to actually do his business, then that would be even better. At least then he wouldn’t keep running away. But it would also be a little awkward.

Thankfully, though, James did not seem to be using the bathroom for its intended purposes. As soon as Steve entered, the detective was immediately in his face. While Steve was slightly taller and more built than the detective, the latter made up for the difference with his imposing presence. 

“What the hell is your problem, man?” he snarled, and the pungent odor of alcohol on his breath made Steve cringe internally with the memory of his earlier hangover. (At least there was a faint scent of lemon masked some of the odor.)

“Alright, I know that you don’t like me very much.” Steve ignored James’s responding scoff. “But I also know you’re not as much of an ass as you make out to be.”

“Yeah, well I can’t say the same for you, since you’re as much of an ass as you make out to be.”

Steve nodded. “You know what, you’re right. I was a total ass to you and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like how I did. From what I hear, you’re a great cop, and I could really use your help on this one.”

James stared blankly at him in response. For a moment, Steve wondered if he said something weird or wrong.

“Oh,” James finally said, much calmer than before. He took a small step back. “Uh… thanks? I guess…”

“You’re welcome,” Steve replied. Well, this was sudden and unexpected progress.

There was a few seconds of silence and awkward standing around in the (thankfully empty) men’s room before James spoke up again. “You sure? I mean, about wanting my help.”

“Honestly, no, but Sam insisted on recruiting you two.” Steve grinned jokingly, then held the door open for them both.

James walked out of the bathroom, with Steve following close behind, and the two made their way back to the table.

“Well, Sam’s a smart man then, to want our help. Obviously, you need it, but…”

It was Steve’s turn to become a little hostile. “‘Need it’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I’m just sayin’…” His voice trailed off, and big hand gestures took its place. “You’re an army guy, y’know, not a detective. No offense.”

At that moment, James stumbled a little into Steve. “Sorry,” he mumbled before stifling a burp.

But Steve had more important things to focus on than James’s emerging drunkenness. “And that’s supposed to make me incompetent or something?”

James raised his hands in defense. “No, no, no, I never said incompetent. I mean look at these.” He prodded one of Steve’s biceps. “They’re definitely not incompetent. The opposite, actually. But it’s not like the bad guys are gonna to be linin’ up for you to punch ‘em or shoot ‘em or whatever it is you do. You gotta find ‘em first. With detective skills.”

“My dad was a cop, you know,” Steve pointed out before catching James after another stumble. He could feel the stare of the bouncer following them warily.

“Thanks. And I _do_ know that, who d’you think you stole this case from, remember?” But unlike before, there wasn’t too much anger behind his words. “But detectivity—detectiving?—isn’t genetic, Steven.”

They finally reached their table, earning inquiring looks from both Sam and Natasha. James didn’t seem to notice them as he sat down and continued to talk without missing a beat.

“You gotta learn that shit. With experience. And have natural talent, y’know? Like me and Natasha.”

“What shit is he talking now?” Natasha said, finding some humor in her partner’s state.

“He’s saying that us military guys can’t be good detectives,” Steve explained as he started to find James’s rambling to be more entertaining than offensive.

“I didn’t say—.” James huffed with frustration that made Natasha have to stifle a laugh. “Stop putting words in my mouth, Rogers. You guys _could_ be good detectives.”

“But weren’t not yet?” Sam asked with a grin.

“But you’re not—exactly. Not yet.”

“Okay then, Sergeant Barnes,” Natasha began. She wore a suspiciously innocent smile, but Steve knew better than to question her intentions. “Since Steve and Sam are such inexperienced detectives, it would be better if we split up the talent when we go into teams, right?”

James stared at her for a moment, comprehending her words. “Teams? For what?”

Sam stepped in, keeping his voice low. “We got two leads so far that may be suspects. We were thinking about breaking up into teams and talking to them at the same time, just in case one of ‘em tips the other off.”

After a moment of thought, James slowly nodded. “That’s good… yeah… smart…”

“So splitting up the detectives and the military boys is a good idea, right?” Natasha asked. After James continued to nod, Natasha’s smile grew even wider. “Perfect! Then it’ll be me with Sam and you with Steve.”

“Wait, what?” Steve and James immediately responded simultaneously.

“You two are going to be one team, Sam and I will be the other,” Natasha repeated as she stood up and hurriedly gathered her things. “Anyway, I’m heading out. You two can have the rest of the nachos. And Sam and I already closed the tab. You can thank us later. Sam?”

“Huh? Oh right.” Sam also stood up and pocketed his belongings. “I’m heading out too. We’ll meet bright and early tomorrow okay? How’s 7? At the office.” He looked to Nat. “We told you where that was, right?”

As Natasha nodded, Steve looked to Sam incredulously. Was recruiting Barnes not enough? Were these two seriously forcing them to get along as partners?

“Wait, wait, hang on.” Now Steve was standing up too. “I thought I was the D.D.?”

“Sam and I are good to drive,” Natasha replied. “Could you walk James home though? He’s only a couple blocks away.”

“Of course he can,” Sam answered before Steve could say anything. “We’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Not giving Steve any time to object, Sam and Natasha made a beeline for the door, leaving him alone with…

 _Wait, why didn’t James say anything?_ Steve immediately thought. He turned to his apparently new partner for an explanation.

But James was dozing off in his seat, hunched over the table with the last tater tot in his hand. Steve figured he lost his only ally in the argument as soon as Natasha put the food up for grabs.

Sighing angrily, Steve nudged James on his arm. “Come on, get up. We’re leaving.” When the detective didn’t respond, Steve nudged him harder. “ _James_.”

James slowly woke up and blinked his eyes groggily. “What?” he asked in nearly a whine.

“I’m taking you home, let’s go.”

At this, James snapped to attention, looking slightly shocked. “Wait, you’re doing _what_?”

Steve sighed. He definitely did not have Sam’s patience. “Natasha said I had to walk you home. And since I’m pretty sure she could kill me, that’s what I’m going to do. Now are you done here? Because I’m pretty sure we’re about to get kicked out.”

After a few seconds of staring at Steve (with Steve fidgeting slightly from being stared at), James finally seemed to understand.

“Oh, right. Uh… hang on.” James devoured the last tater tot as he stood up. After checking to make sure he had everything, he turned to Steve. “Alright, what are we waiting for?”

As James turned to leave, Steve took one more deep breath and grasped at whatever patience he had left before following his new partner out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “lolo” = “crazy”  
> Ala Wai Canal = a filthy man-made canal just north of Waikiki that serves as the home for many creatures such as shopping carts, mutated fish, and dead bodies (not an overstatement)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hopefully I’ll be a little faster with the next chapter, but given that I have absolutely nothing planned for it yet (when I usually do), I can’t make any promises.
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr as sassembled!


	9. New Partners, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually expected the wait for this one to be longer, but I really wanted to get things moving already. (I’m sure all of you do too!)
> 
> Fun fact: The unofficial title of this chapter is “THIS THING IS A MESS” because of all the reordering of events that happened to it. I'm pretty it's going to go downhill from here though.
> 
> Also, I needed some practice in typing out Pidgin English, so I used Ward’s dialogue. As always, sounding it out aloud helps, but I can provide translations if anybody needs. If anybody wants to hear Pidgin actually being spoken, for this chapter I recommend YouTube-ing “Rap Reiplinger Room Service” (a comedy sketch) because that’s all I was thinking about when writing some of the dialogues. 
> 
> The layout of Ward’s apartment building and neighborhood is roughly based off of Ali’i Manor Apartments on Leolua Street in Waipahu. You can find it on Google Street View! Seeing it may make it easier to visualize parts of this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

_James’s Apartment, McCully  
Ten hours later_

James woke up to an unrelenting pounding inside his head that was so powerful he could feel his skull rattling. He kept his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to urge his headache away. Never again was he drinking—well, not that quickly, at least. And taking those shots of tequila for a finale was not the smartest thing he’s done.

After a while though, the pounding subsided almost instantly. James cracked an eye open warily. It was still early enough that the sun was still coming over the horizon and wasn’t bright enough to burn his eyeballs out. While James was thankful, he also found it strange—wasn’t he normally awake by sunrise? Yes, he was. Why? To beat the traffic. To go where? To drop off—

“Gracie!” Both of James’s eyes immediately snapped wide open and he scrambled out of bed. He had to take Grace to school and _shit, shit, shit_ he was so late and _fucking dammit_ he was going to get an earful from the demon queen about this.

His panic was halted momentarily when he noticed the second strange sight of the day: a shirt, pair of pants, and a tie were neatly hung on his closet door. And James didn’t recall putting them there. Then again, he wasn’t recalling a lot of other stuff at the moment, so this wasn’t too surprising. He snapped out of his shock and hurriedly took off his shirt to change…

“James, wake—oh, crap, I’m sorry, I—”

At the sound of the voice behind him, James’s mind immediately jumped to the all of the locations around the apartment where he had guns hidden: in the kitchen under the sink, in the bathroom behind the toilet, in his bedroom velcroed to the inner roof of the nightstand…

He sprang to his nightstand and pulled out the gun in an instant, aiming it in the direction that the voice came from. Honestly, James didn’t know what to expect, but he definitely didn’t think he’d see Steve Rogers’s head in his bedroom window.

“What the hell are you doing?” James yelled at the man, his heart beating a mile a minute.

“I, um…” Steve’s eyes looked at everything in the room except James. “Natasha wanted to make sure you woke up. She said you’re kinda a heavy sleeper so she sent me since you’re on the way from my place and…”

“But why’d you come through my window?”

“You weren’t answering the door! I’ve been knocking for ages. I did what I had to.”

“I live on the second floor!”

“You think I don’t know that? Now will you stop pointing your gun at me and start getting ready? We’re going to be late.”

James, who hadn’t realized he was still threatening to shoot Steve, complied without arguing. While he crouched down by the nightstand and returned the gun to its place, Steve hoisted himself up onto the windowsill and into the room.

“This place isn’t very secure,” Steve commented as he looked back out at the way he came in. “Anyone can come in here.”

“Thanks for the input,” James replied bitterly. He finished securing the gun and stood to face Steve. “And what do you mean we’re going to be late? I have to… I have stuff to do.” James didn’t feel like sharing his life story with this guy yet.

“You mean taking Grace to school?” Steve asked. “Rachel’s got that covered.”

At the sound of Steve’s words, James froze. “Wait, wha—how do you know about my daughter? And my—and Rachel?”

“You had me text Rachel last night to say you couldn’t take Grace to school,” explained Steve, his eyes seemingly determined to travel no lower than James’s face. “You actually had me text her as you, but I guess I didn’t use enough text-speak to pull it off and she figured it out. So I introduced myself and we talked a bit. She seems very friendly.”

James groaned and rubbed his head. He figured the earlier pounding in his head was attributed to Steve repeatedly knocking on his door, but he could feel the throbbing headache returning without the noise. “Friendly my ass,” he grumbled.

“I told her you had a big case to work on and were swamped with work. I think she believed me.”

“Well, I don’t really care if she didn’t.” James turned back around to grab the shirt that was hanging on the closet door and started to change. “So what are we going to be late to again?”

“We have to meet Sam and Natasha at the office in…” Steve glanced at the watch on his wrist. “Thirty minutes. You remember, right? We’re working together on this.”

Sadly, James did. “So that did happen? I thought it was a nightmare.”

“Unless you want to argue with Natasha. And I actually think I agree with her. Like it or not, we’re partners, James.”

James, with his shirt half-buttoned, spun around to find Steve with a small grin. He knew he agreed to help with the case, but being partners with Steve Rogers? That, he didn’t sign up for.

His shock must have shown on his face because Steve’s grin grew even wider.

“We’re gonna get along great,” Steve said adamantly before he exited the room, leaving James behind to regret his life choices in solitude.

\--------------------

_Westbound on the H-1 freeway, Honolulu, HI_

Ten minutes and two painkillers later, the two of them left James’s apartment (“Use the front door this time, Rogers, that’s what it’s there for”) and headed for the task force headquarters downtown. And since Steve was still taking a cab everywhere, they both rode in James’s car.

“A sports car?” Steve asked once they were on their way. James could hear the judgment in his voice.

“If you don’t like it, I can drop you off right here,” James replied brusquely. While James really wanted to fill in the gaps of his memory from last night, he could do without Steve’s commentary that was sure to come with it.

“I didn’t say that, it’s just… it’s not very family-friendly, is it?”

“I will not subject myself to a minivan, Rogers. Besides, I only drive around myself and my daughter. Sometimes Nat if it’s raining and she doesn’t want to ride her death-harbinger of a motorcycle. So it’s good enough.”

Steve was quiet for a few moments before speaking up again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Will it matter to you if I said no?”

“You have any guns hidden in here?”

James could feel his patience wearing thin. “No, I do not. And, for the record, my daughter does not stay in my apartment. Believe me if she did, I would hide all my guns there differently.”

James was saved from further explanation when his phone rang. And since it was playing the Darth Vader theme song, there could only be one person on the other end. He rejected the call without taking his eyes off the road.

“Rachel?” Steve asked.

“How’d you guess?” replied James sarcastically.

“I take it you two aren’t on the best terms.”

“No shit, Dr. Phil. She dragged my daughter to this hell in the middle of nowhere just for her job. So, no, I am not her biggest fan.”

Steve stared at James in mild disbelieve. “You don’t like the beach?”

“No, I do not.”

“Who doesn’t like the beach?”

“Oh, I don’t know, people who don’t like jellyfish… sharks… tsunamis… survival…”

James was interrupted by Darth Vader calling again. He sighed, braced himself, and answered the call on speaker.

“Yes, your majesty,” James answered bitterly.

But it wasn’t his ex-wife who answered. “Bucky? Where are you?”

James was so happy to hear his daughter’s voice that he didn’t care about Steve’s curious glances in his direction. “Gracie! I’m sorry, monkey, but I got a really important case right now. Your mom’s going to take you to school today, okay?”

“Okay…” Her voice trailed off in disappointment, and James wanted to give her a big hug right then and there.

“I’ll see you soon Gracie. We’re going to the beach this weekend, remember?”

“You promise?” While she still sounded a little sad, James could hear some excitement mixed in as well.

“Of course, sweetheart, I promise.”

“We’ll spend all weekend on the beach?”

James mentally cringed. “All weekend,” he repeated with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

“Okay then,” Grace replied, satisfied with the promise. James could hear her smile through the phone.

“Alright, monkey, I’ll see you later, okay? Have fun in school.”

“I will. Love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, too, sweetie.”

The call ended and James sat in silence, waiting for Steve to make some comment on the phone call. He wasn’t disappointed.

“So… Bucky?”

“Don’t, Rogers,” James replied immediately. “Just don’t.” Even though Steve already knew about Grace and Rachel _and_ has seen him half-naked, James was not ready to explain what the nickname meant to him.

Steve paused for a moment before responding. “Whatever you say.”

“Thank you,” James replied. 

But as they continued to drive in silence, James swore he heard Steve muttering ‘Bucky’ to himself as he stared out the window.

\--------------------

_Task Force Headquarters, Downtown  
Fifteen minutes later_

By the times James and Steve arrived at the office, Natasha and Sam were already waiting for them. James had to admit the place was a lot nicer than the precinct. It was a large room with individual offices along the edge, each separated from the central area with glass walls. In this central area, there was a large table that seemed to double as a touchscreen computer that was connected to several monitors hanging from the ceiling nearby.

Natasha and Sam seemed to be reviewing some documents on these devices when James and Steve walked in.

“When did all of this this come in?” Steve asked with surprise.

“They just finished installing ‘em half an hour ago,” Sam replied. He seemed to be getting a kick out of swiping images from the tabletop up onto the monitors above.

“It’s about time you got here, boys,” Natasha teased. And once James was standing next to her, she whispered in his ear: “Like the new alarm clock, Barnes?”

James narrowed his eyes at her. They were going to have a very long talk that would include, but not be limited to, inviting Steve to the bar with them, then partnering him with Steve, and finally sending Steve to his damn apartment.

“What you got there?” Steve asked Sam, nodding towards the computer screens.

“I was just about to brief Natasha about our two leads,” Sam replied. He tapped the table screen a few times before swiping two images of Hawaii state driver’s licenses onto the monitors. The one on the left was for a man in his forties while the one on the right for a man in his mid-twenties. “The first one is John Garrett, on the left. He runs a successful IT company and has a big-ass house out in Lanikai. He bought this gun,” Sam swiped an image of a pistol onto one of the overhead screens, “years ago for protection. He reported it stolen a little over a year ago.”

“And the ballistics of this gun match the one used in our case,” Natasha verified.

“Exactly,” Sam replied. “They also match one used in a bank robbery shortly after Garrett’s gun was reported stolen. During the robbery, the manager on duty was shot and killed when he was taken to the back to open a safe and he tried to fight back. The weapon used matched Garrett’s gun, and it was never recovered. The only suspect that was arrested was this man on the right.” He pulled up some images of the man’s mugshot and arrest record. “Grant Ward. One of the witnesses at the bank claimed that the robber that killed the manager had a skull tattoo on his inner right wrist. Ward’s tattoo matched what the witness saw exactly. He’s had some priors as a kid for petty theft, but he hasn’t been in any trouble since he turned 18. Since then, he’s worked at a resort out in Kapolei, which is where security cameras placed him at the time of the robbery.”

“What about Garrett’s alibi?” asked James.

“He was at a private party hosted by the governor himself at Washington Place,” Steve answered. “Dozens of prominent business owners and political figures can confirm he was there the entire time of the robbery.”

“But you still think they both could have something to do with the robbery?” Natasha asked.

Sam nodded. “Yesterday, when Steve and I were trying to find a connection between Garrett and Ward, we managed to find this.” He pulled up a credit card statement addressed to Garrett. “It says here that Garrett spent a couple days at the resort Ward works at for a conference shortly before he reported his gun as stolen. Now, the security camera system was down for maintenance during part of his stay so some footage is missing. But we do know that Ward was working room service during this time and could’ve easily met with Garrett without looking suspicious.”

“You do know that’s a long shot, right?” James said. “Thousands of people stay there on a daily basis. This could all just be a coincidence.”

“Maybe,” Steve agreed. “But at this point, even coincidences need to be investigated.”

“Besides, that maintenance on the security cameras seems oddly convenient,” Natasha offered. “If Ward knew about it and he was working with Garrett, it would’ve been the perfect time for the gun to exchange hands.”

“What I’m still trying to figure out is why they would do it in some place with as much security as a hotel,” Sam pondered. “Why not some place more off-the-grid, y’know?”

“And why that gun specifically?” James added. “Seems risky for a guy with Garrett’s reputation to give his gun just for some bank robbery.”

“We can just add those questions to our list of things that don’t make sense,” Steve replied.

He moved over to the table and brought the two driver’s licenses back to the front. “Assuming that they are working together, going to them one at a time could tip the other person off, which is why we’re split into teams. Sam and Natasha, you two will head out to Lanikai to question Garrett, and hopefully you’ll catch him before he leaves for work. James and I will go to Waipahu to see if Ward’s home, then head to Kapolei if he’s not. We’ll call each other when we get there so we can approach them at the same time. Find out if they know where this gun is and where they were when our case took place.”

Steve looked from the monitors to the rest of them as if he was surveying his troops before battle. “Alright, team, let’s move out.”

\--------------------

_Outside Grant Ward’s Apartment Building, Waipahu  
Thirty minutes later_

Once James and Steve arrived at Grant Ward’s apartment building and confirmed that he was there, they only had to wait a few more minutes for Natasha and Sam’s call to come in. James was relieved—even after being so chatty earlier that morning, Steve had hardly said a word in the half hour ride to Waipahu. He didn’t know which was worse: the sassy, talkative Steve or the broody, quiet one. Either way, if James had to spend any more time sitting silently in a confined space next to that man, he was going to scream.

As soon as James ended the call with Natasha, Steve immediately left the car and made his way towards the building with a look of pure determination. James hurriedly locked his car (while praying that no brats would put their grubby little paws on it) and jogged after him.

“What’s the rush, Cap? There’s no way Ward can know we’re coming.”

“I’m not rushing,” Steve said as they reached the stairs, then proceeded to take them two at a time. “And don’t call me that.”

“You do know he lives on the fifth floor, right? You planning to keep this pace up until you get there?”

“You could always fall back if you can’t keep up,” Steve retorted, and, for some reason, James was relieved that the man’s sass hadn’t gone AWOL on him.

“Hell, no,” James muttered in reply, trying not to show his heavy breathing.

Just before they reached the fifth floor, Steve stopped them in the stairwell and peered out into the hallway. From behind him, James could hear the faint sound of what seemed to be an argument and a lot of breaking glass. James moved to the other side of the stairwell and looked down the hallway as well. About a dozen doors away, one of the doors was wide open, letting the clamor of the ruckus fly right out into the hallway. 

“You sonuvabitch!” yelled a female voice. “You said you were _pau_ wit’ her!”

“I am!” a male voice shouted back. “What, you no believe me?”

“Den how come you still get her pictcha, huh? What, you like look at ‘em when I not here?”

“‘Course not, babe!”

“Den you won’t mind if I do this to it?”

“Hey!”

There was noise of a small scuffle, and James was ready to charge in there to break up the domestic dispute when the woman started yelling again.

“I knew it! You bettah watch it, Grant, ‘cuz if I evah see you again, I gon’ karang yo’ alahs! You fakah…”

James and Steve ducked back into the stairwell just as a woman stormed out of the apartment and headed for the stairs on the opposite end. Once she was out of sight, they pulled out their guns simultaneously. Looks like they found Grant Ward.

“You know what?” James whispered, taking into account the heightened tension in the air. “We should probably wait for backup.”

Steve looked at him, incredulous. “You’re my backup,” he replied as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. He immediately turned back to the hallway and made his way towards Ward’s apartment, gun raised.

“I’m the…” James sighed softly with frustration before following his partner.

Once they reached the door, Steve paused for a moment and listened for movement inside the apartment. The distant sound of a flushing toilet signaled that he wasn’t near the doorway. Steve quickly moved to the opposite side of the door just as the sound of footsteps started. The feet shuffled across the apartment for a few seconds, before they started making their way to the door. James and Steve glanced at each other, silently verifying that they were ready to move…

When the footsteps stopped. The silence dangled warily in the air, and James could hear his heart pounding in his ears. There was no way Ward could’ve seen them, they were completely out of sight from the doorway. Unless…

James looked at the ground. The sun was behind him—his shadow… _shit_.

It was like a volcano erupting after millennia of dormancy. A spray of bullets began barraging them from the doorway and even through the thin wall. James just barely dove away from the danger with his life, but not without feeling that all-too-familiar piercing sensation in his left arm.

“ _Shit!_ ” James gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as he clutched to the wound with his right hand, still maintaining a firm grip on his gun. The sudden and intense pain sent the world spinning, and he felt his back leaned against the railing for support.

Off in the distance, the sounds of rapid fire halted and were replaced by several shots from what James guessed to be Steve’s gun. Beneath that noise, there was the sound of a door sliding open, the thud of feet smacking concrete, and the crashing of glass. Steve stopped firing just as the noise of a man and woman yelping in surprise filled the air.

“Bucky!” Steve yelled.

James cracked his eyes open enough to glare at Steve for using his nickname. “Shut the fuck up, just get him!”

Steve stared at James for a second, his eyes filled with concern, before getting to his feet. He peered over the rail to the floor below where James could hear Ward running down the hallway. Without another moment of hesitation, Steve holstered his gun and jumped over to the other side of the railing. Next, he gripped tightly onto the vertical bars before sliding down them until his hands reached the bottom. Just as James was about to ask him what the hell he was doing, Steve swung his legs forward and released the bars—the thud of his shoes on the cement signaled he made it safely to the floor below.

But instead of hearing him running after Ward, James heard the squeaking of skin on metal. He hoisted himself to his feet and looked over the railing to find Steve repeating the process of jumping over the railing and swinging to the floor below while he was five—well, now four—stories above the ground.

James would rather take the stairs.

He scanned below for any sign of Ward. A few seconds later, Ward emerged on the street level as he started to sprint from the staircase and cut across the parking lot, but doubled back at the sight of Steve just about to swing down in front of him. James immediately took the same staircase that Ward took, letting go of his injured arm and mentally suppressing the pain. There were more important things to deal with.

As he ran down the staircase, he kept an eye on where Steve and Ward were headed. By the time he reached the ground floor, they had run across the street and disappeared into a dilapidated warehouse. James immediately sprinted after then.

When he approached the building, he paused to catch his breath and evaluate the situation. There was no sounds of gunfire and only the muffled sounds of a scuffle. James peered through the doorway they took, his gun lowered but ready to fire. Neither of them were in sight, but a shelf that seemed to have been filled with various glass bottles was lying in the middle of the path, its contents smashed on the floor around it.

James quickly entered the warehouse and navigated around the debris, his head constantly swiveling to inspect his surroundings. A large crash and a few grunts erupted from the opposite end of the building sent him into a run towards the noise. As he approached he saw Steve and Ward in a fist-and-whatever-else-was-lying-around fight, both of their guns lying just out of reach.

And then Ward had the upper hand. Steve was shakily picking himself off the ground as Ward—not looking much better himself—was just about swing a thick crowbar onto his head.

James didn’t need to think twice about it. He aimed and fired his gun in a split second, catching Ward in his right thigh.

Ward dropped the crowbar with a scream of pain before falling to his knees.

James approached him quickly but cautiously, keeping his gun aimed in case Ward got unruly again. He kicked the discarded crowbar off to the side.

“Hands, show me your hands,” James ordered, moving behind Ward and checking him for any other weapons. The man had nothing else except a couple of dollars and a cellphone in his pockets. He also had a horrendous tattoo on his inner wrist that looked like a human skull/octopus hybrid, except the octopus only had three tentacles. James took the phone and put it in his own pocket.

While he put Ward in handcuffs and read him his rights, James saw Steve carefully heave himself to his feet and retrieve his gun. The man had a few cuts on his face, one of which sent a thin layer of blood dripping down his face, along with a bruise or five. His clothes were decorated with dust, wood shavings, and a thin layer of sweat, and his dirty blond hair was now filthy blond.

Now, James wouldn’t say he was distracted by the view, but the sight was enough to make him fumble the handcuffs. Ward saw the opportunity and took it; the man whipped his head back, missing James’s face and hitting his left shoulder instead. The force jostled James’s wound and caught him by surprise, causing him to instinctively release their suspect. Ward jumped up, and was just about to run when a well-placed punch from Steve sent him collapsing to the ground, knocked out cold.

James, who had once again fallen to the floor in pain, looked up to see Steve’s concerned face and his outreached hand.

“Buc—James, you okay?” he asked.

But James ignored both his question and his hand. The agitation had caused the injury to bleed even more, but James was in no mood to accept help from Steve Rogers. Instead, he redirected the man’s attention.

“You gonna restrain him or do I have to?” James nodded at Ward’s body sprawled out on the floor.

“Oh, right.”

Steve left to handcuff Ward to the nearest warehouse shelves, giving James a chance to slowly hoist himself to his feet.

Once Ward was restrained, James handed Steve the phone curtly. “Found this on him.”

Steve gave James a quick nod as he took the phone. “You okay?” He repeated, looking towards the wound that James had instinctively started to hold again.

James scowled. “I’ll be fine, no thanks to you,” he replied, and it was partially true. The bleeding was slowing as long as he applied pressure, but it still hurt like hell.

Steve thought for a moment before he shrugged as if to say “suit yourself” before he started to inspect Ward’s phone. It was a simple smartphone that had a plain black lockscreen background and required a passcode. He began to pace as he tried a few number combinations, but stopped when each of them failed, irately shoving the phone into his pocket. Deep in thought, in he looked around for a moment before walking off towards Ward’s gun. After a moment of inspection, he frowned and mumbled to himself, not seeming to care that James was probably going to bleed out right next to him.

“You know what, Rogers?” James asked.

Steve snapped out of his thoughts to look to James, confused.

“This is typically where you say thanks for saving your life,” James continued with a scowl.

“What you mean this guy?” Steve pointed to Ward. “I had him on the ropes.”

“Are you—you’re kidding, right? Are you fucking kidding me?”

But Steve just shook his head in reply and began to pace again. “If this isn’t the gun, then it has be back at his apartment,” he thought aloud. “But why would he do that… why would he use a gun that was already linked to another crime when he had another perfectly good one right here…?”

“Hey!” James planted himself in the path of Steve’s pacing. “You just took a stupid risk! I said we should wait for backup, but did you listen? Of course not! And I am not about to get killed for your stupid vendetta!”

Steve glared at him. “Oh, yeah? People have already been killed because of this guy! And unless we do something about it, even more people are going to die!”

“You don’t get it.” James sighed with frustration. “You don’t get it at all, do you? I have a daughter! I mean, for someone who just lost his father, you’re pretty dense!”

James regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. But there was no taking them back now.

For a moment, all Steve did was stare at him in shock. “What… what’d you just say? What’d you just say to me?!”

“Look, there’s a difference between trying to save people and trying to get yourself killed!” James jabbed a bloody finger on Steve’s chest as he said the last few words.

“I’m warning you, take your finger off of me,” Steve threatened.

“Listen to me, you son of a—AUGH!”

It was definitely an hour of pain for James. Following through on his threats, Steve had seized James’s uninjured arm and twisted it behind his back.

“What did I tell you?” Steve jeered.

“Let go, you piece of shit!” James grumbled as he tried and failed to wriggle free.

“I told you, didn’t I? I warned you!”

“What are you, a super soldier? Let go.”

Steve ignored him. “You don’t have to like me, okay? But right now, I need your help on this. Got it?”

James sighed, defeated. “I got it. Now _let go_.”

After a moment of contemplation, Steve released James’s arm. There was a hint of concern of the Steve’s face when he glanced at James’s injury, but James really didn’t care.

“Alright,” Steve continued after the air had cooled down a bit. “We still need to find—”

But his words were interrupted by a right hook to his face from James. The punch sent Steve stumbling back a few steps and cradling his jaw with his hand.

“You’re right,” James said with finality. “I don’t like you.”

Now, James knew that wasn’t entirely true, but he was too pissed off to care. Not to mention the blood loss that would make anyone a little cranky. He walked away from where Steve was still rubbing his jaw to lean against one of the sturdy warehouse shelves. Honestly, he just wanted to go back to sleep…

“Hey, wake up.”

James opened his eyes—he didn’t realize he had even closed them. Steve was looking at him with an expression that James couldn’t read, but it looked damn pitiful.

“I…” Steve’s sentence trailed off, and after a moment of silence, he simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a tattered handkerchief. 

“Give me your arm,” he said, taking a step closer.

James paused for a moment because, okay, he wasn’t expecting that. But he willingly obliged and let Steve tend to his arm.

“It’s not much,” Steve explained as he worked, his voice much softer than before now that they had both calmed down. “But it should slow the bleeding at least. It’s just…” Again, Steve left his words hanging in the air.

“It’s just _what_ , Rogers?”

“Can we hold off on calling HPD for a bit? There’s something I need to do first.”

James stared at Steve like he was crazy. They have Ward, and James wanted to pass out. What could possibly be keeping them from calling it in?

But Steve looked so adamant and so… _desperate_ … and James knew that he was supposed to be mad at the man and… James sighed with frustration for the hundredth time that day.

“Fine…” he surrendered. “Five minutes, make it fast.”

But the two of them had to first wait five minutes for Ward to wake up. (“Really, Steve? Did you really have to hit him that hard?”) But as soon as he did, Steve immediately bombarded him with questions.

“First of all, where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Even though he was shamefully handcuffed to the warehouse shelves, Ward gave him an insolent smirk. Still, James could see his jaw was tightly clenched from the pain in his leg where James had shot him. “Grew up in a rough neighborhood, whatchu t’ink?”

“You don’t learn how to fight like that just from the streets,” Steve replied. “And in your most recent escapades, you definitely didn’t work alone. Who helped you with all of those? And where’s the gun that you used?”

Ward didn’t answer. He just stared at Steve with a malicious sneer.

But Steve didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he pulled out Ward’s phone from his pocket. “What’s the passcode for this? Or did I punch you so hard that your tiny brain forgot everything?”

“Fuck you!” Ward spit back.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s only four characters.” Steve thought for a moment. “Tell you what, you answer all my questions I won’t do this to you.”

“Do what—AUGH!”

Ward yelled as his wound was prodded by Steve’s foot.

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry! Did that hurt?” Steve replied innocently. He nudged Ward’s leg a few times, jostling the wound. “Is this bothering you? Is it?”

“What the hell, man?” Ward yelled back through gritted teeth, his face scrunched up in pain and his arms pulling against his restraints.

James, who was staying off to the side, knew Steve was crazy; that wasn’t debatable. And he knew that Ward had probably killed two innocent people so far: the bank manager and Steve’s father. But he also knew that what they were doing could cost them their jobs.

“Steve,” he muttered, nodding the man over.

Steve approached him, looking completely unfazed. James dropped his voice lower, even though he doubted Ward could hear them over his continuous groans of agony. “I’m no lawyer, but you do realize that torturing the guy isn’t exactly legal, right?”

“James, this guy is a criminal that probably killed my dad. He robbed a bank and killed an employee. He shot you _and_ tried to kill me. I know there are probably hundreds of people who have done worse things, but are you seriously telling me he doesn’t deserve this?”

James held back another exasperated sigh. The look Steve was giving reminded him of an abandoned puppy that had just been kicked. “Of course not. But I enjoy employment, Steve. I’m not about to lose my job just so we can get info from this guy.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“ _Steve_ …”

“James, we’re running out of time. There’s no way Ward was working on his own; there’re people out here, on this island and every second we waste, his friends are get further out of our reach. Lieutenant Governor Fury told me to do whatever it takes to protect these islands and the one million innocent people living here. Our families, our friends… Grace… we are responsible for them. And you can bet that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”

 _Grace_ … James was silent as he mulled over Steve’s words. The man did have a point.

As if right on cue, Ward called out from the background. “You _haole_ fakahs! I gon get you guys for dis! You _maké_ , y’hear? You _an’_ yo’ _ohana_! _Maké_!”

And just like that, James had made his decision.

He turned to Ward with a look of confusion. “For what, exactly?”

“ _What?_ ”

“You’re obviously mad at us, but for what? Unless you mean your arrest, I have no idea what you’re referring to. You’re welcome to file a complaint if you like. But if you do that, you’re going to need a witness. So, did you want to file a complaint?”

“What the—I’m bleedin’ here! You guys suppose to help me!”

“Yeah, that does look pretty bad,” James agreed. Steve’s interrogation tactics were definitely to thank for that. “And if we wait any longer it could get infected. Who knows what kind of germs are crawling around this place? They might even have to amputate it…”

“ _Amputate?_ ” Ward repeated. “Hell nah! Come on, you guys gotta help me!”

“Let me,” Steve said, overly cheerful as he made to move towards Ward.

“No, no, NO, not you! Okay! Okay! I’ll talk, just…” Ward glared at Steve. “Don’tchu come any closer, man.” Ward looked to the ground, dejected. “Shit, what the hell kind of cops are you?”

Steve glowered at him, his eyes suddenly filled with fury and zero remorse. “The new kind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “pau” = “finished”  
> “I gon’ karang yo’ alahs” = “I will hit you in the balls”  
> “ohana” = “family” (See: Lilo and Stitch)  
> “maké” = “dead” (I added the accent to easily distinguish the pronunciation from the word “make”, but I might not do that in future chapters and just italicize it instead.)  
> (Also, if someone else who knows Pidgin reads this, please let me know if I used “maké” strangely. It sounded right to me, but I’m still not sure.)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hopefully I can get the next chapter out this fast again. In the meantime, say hi to me on tumblr! I'm there as sassembled.


	10. New Partners, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for new characters! I’ll be continuing to update the tags as other major characters appear.
> 
> Lots of this stuff was actually supposed to be in Chapter 9, but that got too long and it became Chapter 10. And 11, even though that doesn’t exist yet.
> 
> I also took a writing break about halfway through, and when I started working again I forgot what I was doing so it may drag on a bit around that point. Whoops.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for waiting, and I hope you enjoy the update!
> 
> Note: this chapter contains a drug mention, but no usage.

_Some abandoned warehouse, Waipahu_

Normally, Steve thought he was pretty easy going, especially considering the time he spent in the army. He’d always hear about other captains who used fear and the looming threat of punishment to drill discipline into their units. It’s not that Steve didn’t instill discipline, but he never thought that scaring people into following orders was the best way to go about things. Instead, he always thought it was best to _earn_ the respect and trust of his soldiers, and that was what he did.

That is, until now.

In his defense, Grant Ward wasn’t a soldier. He was a coward and a murderer (probably), and Steve didn’t give a shit if he didn’t have the man’s respect or trust. It was more effective to make him scared, and while Steve didn’t normally use these tactics, he wasn’t exactly clueless. He knew exactly how to make Ward talk, and it didn’t take Steve very long to reach this goal either.

“Okay, okay,” Ward said, trying not to look at his injured leg that was now bleeding profusely. “Whatchu want?”

“What’s the passcode on this?” Steve asked, holding the phone in front of his face.

“Nine, two, seven, three,” Ward immediately answered.

Steve typed in the passcode and the phone unlocked. There were no text messages, but there were multiple calls to and from a single local number.

“This number,” Steve held the phone up to Ward again, “who is it?”

But Ward didn’t answer. Steve could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to evaluate the best possible option.

“Is this the same person that helped you rob the bank a year ago?”

At the mention of the robbery, Ward seemed to freeze. “Robbery? I don’t—that wasn’t me!”

“We know that you shot and killed that bank manager, Ward,” Steve continued, even though he was probably 50% sure that was the truth. But Ward didn’t have to know that. “Multiple witnesses place a man matching your description at that robbery.”

“But—that’s wrong! I was at work! They get video of me!”

“That’s fake.” And all of a sudden, Steve was actually starting to believe his own words. Things were actually starting to make sense. “You know, on the days before and after the robbery, you didn’t show up on the security cameras that often, you know why?”

Ward looked at Steve worriedly. “No…?”

“Because you were hiding out in the storage room.” Steve recalled what one of Ward’s coworkers had said about him in passing during the initial investigation. He can’t believe he didn’t notice this sooner. “That’s your spot, isn’t it? A place where you can do whatever the hell you want since there aren’t any cameras watching.”

“So what?” Ward yelled defensively. “What’s that gotta do wit’ anythin’?”

“The security camera footage from the day of the robbery shows you working the whole time,” Steve explained. “Which, for you, is a rarity, isn’t it? You never work for… what, more than ten minutes at a time? But during the robbery, you worked a whole hour straight. Sounds fake to me.”

“Fabricating evidence…” Bucky—no, James—chimed in, and he had been so quiet recently that Steve had almost forgotten that the man was there. “That should add on a few more years to your life sentence for cold-blooded murder.”

“You’re still young too,” Steve added, finding some entertainment in watching Ward’s face growing increasingly more worried. “A life sentence for you would be fifty years, minimum. Half a century behind bars… sounds horrible, doesn’t it? But trust me, I could still make it a lot worse if you don’t start giving me answers. So tell us now—who helped you?”

Ward was silent for a while before he spoke up. “I swear I dunno the other guys at the bank, but we all met through this one guy. John Garrett. You know ‘im?”

Steve suddenly felt relieved and tense at the same time. So they were on the right track. Steve turned to James—they needed to let Sam and Natasha know. James immediately nodded in understanding and pulled out his phone, moving a few feet away as he did so. Steve felt a little guilty that James was basically bleeding out for his sake (and truthfully looked pretty much like shit), but they were on a clock here.

“We know him,” Steve replied to Ward. “What’s he got to do with this?”

“He’s the one behind all this,” Ward explained. “I’m just hired gun, man. I’m nobody to him, and those other guys pro’bly were too. He never tell us nothin’. Jus’ told us to rob a bank and we get paid. I just wanted the cash, y’know?”

“What’d he need the money for? And how much did he need exactly?”

“Fuck, man, I dunno!”

“Well, you better think of something because as far as I’m concerned, you haven’t given us shit.”

“Okay, okay…” Ward seemed to be racking his brain for anything useful to give up. “I mean, we never had to plan nothin’ ‘cause Garrett had it all. We just did what he told us. He gave us everythin’, man. All the drawings and bank layouts and shit—those were from him! Even the guns…”

“The gun you used,” Steve interjected. “Where is it?”

“Fuck that gun, man! That… that thing is a piece of shit!” Out of the blue, Ward looked at Steve with desperation. “I never meant to kill that guy, ‘kay? Jus’ scare ‘im a little, y’know? But that gun—Garrett’s fuckin’ gun—the… the aim was all messed up, and… and…”

Ward hung his head and let out a restrained sob; Steve didn’t know if the guy’s grief was genuine or not, but he didn’t care either way. Ward was basically useless in figuring out what Garrett’s intentions were.

“Where were you last Wednesday?”

Ward rose his head slowly, eye wide. “Look, man,” he started tentatively. “I dunno whatchu heard…”

Steve took a threatening step closer to Ward. “Answer the damn question.”

“Garrett asked me for help,” Ward blurted out. “He… he said he needed some muscle to take some guy hostage. I… I never thought he’d kill the guy, man, I swear!”

Steve’s mind froze. So Garrett was the one who…?

“What guy?” Steve asked. His voice sounding hollow in his own ears. “Who did Garrett kill?”

“Some old _haole_ out in Aina Haina. Rogers, I t’ink he said.”

Steve felt a newfound rage surge through him. He finally had a name to the crime.

His rage must have shown because Ward started acting even more frantic.

“But I told ‘im—I _told_ ‘im that we shouldn’t’ve done that! He said he only wanted some other guy dead! I dunno his name, was like some bird shit or somthin’…”

“Quinn,” Steve supplied, already knowing full well that Ian Quinn’s death was planned from the start.

“Yeah, that! Sounds like the kine quail, y’know?”

“Steve.” James’s voice cut through Ward’s rambling. He walked up to Steve and kept his voice low. “Nat and Sam had already left Garrett’s but they’re heading back now. Should only take them two minutes to get there, but backup’s five minutes behind them.”

“Make it three minutes for backup,” Steve replied. “Garrett’s already orchestrated a bank robbery and a transpacific murder. He’ll move quickly.”

And as if right on cue, Ward’s phone started to ring. On the screen was the same number that Steve had seen earlier.

“Garrett…” Steve muttered under his breath.

“He’ll know something’s up if Ward doesn’t answer,” James whispered back. “I’ll call Nat again.”

“That’s Garrett, isn’t it?” Ward sat up straight. “You hafta lemme try talk to ‘im!”

Steve glared at him suspiciously. “And why would we let you do that?”

“You had people visit him too, yeah? If I don’t answer, he’s outta there. I can at least keep ‘im around for a little while.”

“But you want something, don’t you?”

Ward diverted his eyes to the ground. “Just… I want this one detective to arrest me, ‘kay? That’s it.”

Steve thought for a second before walking up to Ward. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he warned before answering the call on speaker and moving the phone to Ward.

“Hey, man, wassup?” Ward greeted, surprisingly sounding much more lax than he a few seconds ago.

“Where are you right now?” a male voice replied roughly. _Garrett._

“Whoa, brah, cool it. I stay at home. Why, what’sa matter?”

On Garrett’s end, the sounds of something being smashed echoed in the background. “Some cops were here. New cops. Asking about the bank.”

“So? We good fo’ that already.”

“And Rogers.”

Ward paused for a bit. “Alright, that’s no good.”

“No shit, kid. Have you said anything? To anybody?”

Ward and Steve exchanged glances—Ward’s was wary, Steve’s was savage.

“You know me, man,” Ward continued, not breaking eye contact with Steve. “I stay _lolo_ but I not stupid.”

“I know, but…” Garrett paused mid-sentence, and a rapid succession of smashes erupted on his end. “… They weren’t supposed to match the gun. They betrayed us. They betrayed _me_ , and now I’m gonna fuckin’ kill them.”

Suddenly, another phone rang in the background. It was an alert tone, like for a text.

“Shit…” Garrett muttered, sounding as if he was in the background.

“Garrett?” Ward asked tentatively. “What’s goin’ on?”

For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence from Garrett’s end. And then suddenly…

The call ended—Garrett had cut the conversation short.

Steve tapped the phone screen, frantically trying to get Garrett back on the line. He was sent straight to voicemail.

“Shit, he made us,” Steve said, but he tried again regardless. “James—”

“I’m letting them know,” James finished, and Steve was glad they were at least on the same wavelength for once.

“It wasn’t me, I swear,” Ward pleaded, his laid-back demeanor long gone. “I did what you asked!”

“Nat, Garrett’s on the move,” James said to his phone.

Steve leaned in to the phone. “Someone might have tipped him off,” he added.

“It wasn’t me!” Ward repeated.

“Sounded like he got a text on a different phone,” Steve continued, ignoring Ward. James put the phone on speaker, while Steve spoke. “Keep an eye out for it.”

“Aye aye, Cap,” Natasha’s voice replied, seemingly trying to relieve the tension in the air.

“We’re at Garrett’s, Steve,” Sam announced in the background. “Natasha and I will go in. Maybe we can keep him occupied until—HOLY SHIT!”

The exploding sounds of rapid gunfire pierced the call with sharp static. For a few seconds, neither Sam nor Natasha said anything, and the barrage of bullets continued.

“Sam! Natasha!” Steve exclaimed into the phone.

“THIS FUCKING—this dude’s making holes in my baby!” Sam called out, sounding breathless and pissed off.

“Well, look at it this way,” Natasha replied, also sounding out of breath but relatively calm. She grunted, and the sound of gunfire was still there but more distant. “Now your car is hole-y.”

“Not the time, Romanoff!”

“Right. James, can you hold? I have to put you in my pants.”

And before James or Steve could say anything, there was a rustling noise on the other end (Steve imagined the detective putting the phone in her pocket) and the loud sound of her and Sam firing back. Every once in a while, Steve could hear Sam and Natasha communicating loudly to each other over Garrett’s rapid gunfire. A few minutes later, a sound of screeching tires took over, and in turn was replaced by the sound of police sirens.

The rustling sound again, then Natasha’s voice. “Well, we’re still in pursuit,” she explained nonchalantly. “And of course, backup arrives 15 minutes late and they didn’t even bring Starbucks.”

“Natasha…” James started.

“Natasha!” Sam interrupted as he yelled frantically in the background. “Can you please give your full, undivided attention to the road?!”

“We’ll call you back,” Natasha said simply before hanging up.

In the newfound silence, Steve and James exchanged a knowing glance. In retrospect, maybe their own partnership wasn’t the worst that could happen to them.

\--------------------

Ten minutes later, they were joined by several HPD officers and paramedics, as well as a warrant to search Ward’s apartment. While a few officers left to conduct the search, Steve stayed behind and watched the paramedics patch up both James and Ward; per their agreement, Steve contacted a Detective Johnson to officially arrest Ward. The detective hadn’t sounded too happy about the notion, and for a second Steve was worried that she wouldn’t agree—after all, he did make a promise, even if it was to a murderer like Ward. In the end she obliged, so all Steve had to do was make sure Ward didn’t run for it in the meantime.

As for Garrett, he was in the wind. Sam and Natasha lost him when the car chase turned into a foot chase in the middle of a Pali Highway traffic jam which then turned into a firefight. And with it being the Pali Highway, there was no place for civilians to escape to except for the 1,000 foot drop off the side of the road. So Sam and Natasha made the call to ceasefire to avoid any civilian casualties. And while Steve was disappointed, he knew their choice was the right one. In the meantime, cops around the island were searching for Garrett, and his image was sent to all possible ports. Natasha even said she’d call a contact of hers for help with the search. Ward insisted that he had no idea where Garrett would’ve gone, just like he had no idea why Garrett thought his gun wouldn’t be matched to his crimes. Not that Steve trusted Ward in the first place…

And then there was James. At the mere thought of him, Steve had to pull out one of his peppermint candies to suck on and quell his frustration. For a while there, Steve was sure that they were on decent terms. Maybe even… friends? Okay, maybe it was his fault that he got James shot, but he made up for it in the end, didn’t he? Apparently not since the man kept sending piercing glares every few seconds. Steve thought back on all of the things he did that day that could’ve possibly made James mad—before him getting shot of course. He supposed he was a little broody in the car during the ride over, but it couldn’t have been that. Steve didn’t remember doing anything wrong at headquarters earlier, and before that…

Oh. He climbed through James’s bedroom window while the man was half naked. Right.

To be honest, Steve thought he was more flustered than James was at the time. His staring at James’s smile the night before had been bad enough; the last thing he needed was for the man to catch him staring at… other parts of him. Other very… attractive parts…

Steve nearly choked on the peppermint at the memory.

But he had also done a lot of nice things for the man too, right? How else did James expect he got back home alive, went to sleep fully hydrated and clothed, and had clothes laid out for him the next morning (when Steve climbed into his bedroom, oops)? Still, that could’ve been Steve’s payback for stealing James’s case in the first place.

So Steve concluded that James was mad about him scaling his apartment building and seeing him half naked. That was the only logical reason, after all.

Steve’s thoughts were interrupted when another police car pulled up to the warehouse. A small, local-looking woman stepped out from the passenger’s seat, her expression a mixture of frustration and disappointment. She gave a small smile to Steve, but it quickly disappeared once she spotted Ward.

“Lani…” Ward whispered in such a way that made Steve turn to him in surprise. A murderer having a soft spot for a detective? That was unexpected.

Johnson made her way up to Steve, seemingly forcing a warm smile on her face and ignoring Ward entirely.

“Captain Rogers, is it? I’m Lani Johnson. We spoke on the phone.” She held out her hand.

Steve returned the handshake, slightly surprised by the petite woman’s firm grip. “Steve is fine, Detective. Thanks for coming all the way out here.”

“Call me Lani.” She shrugged. “And no worries, my partner and I weren’t too far out anyway.” Lani nodded over to the car where the driver was still inside, talking on the phone.

“Still, thanks for doing this. James did say you were one of the good ones.”

“Sarge?!” Lani spun around until she saw James grumpily sitting on the back of the ambulance. She flashed him a shaka; he begrudgingly returned it with single nod.

“Lani,” Ward repeated a little more strongly this time. The paramedic had finished treating his injury, but he still couldn’t move very much—Steve had handcuffed him to the vehicle.

But Lani had conveniently gone off to talk with James.

“Hope we didn’t make you wait for too long.”

Steve turned to see Lani’s partner walking up to him. Compared to the small detective, this man was much taller, but still slightly shorter than Steve. He carried himself with an overwhelming sense of confidence as if he took pride in intimidation. And when Steve shook his hand, the man returned it with an excessively strong grip. Steve could feel rough calluses from years of handling guns.

“Brock Rumlow,” the man introduced himself. “Johnson’s my partner.”

“Steve Rogers. James is my partner.”

“I heard,” Rumlow said. He turned to Ward who, much to Steve’s surprise, was eyeing Rumlow warily.

“So you’re Grant Ward, huh?” Rumlow narrowed his eyes. “Thought you’d be taller.”

Ward only stared silently at him in reply.

“Okay, let’s get this over with.” Lani had rejoined them, but much more bitter than before.

Steve nodded, and while he uncuffed Ward from the ambulance, the man went from cautiously silent to relentless pleading.

“Lani, please, just hear me out, ‘kay? I was wrong, okay? I admit it. It—it wasn’t personal…”

“Ward, fo’ your own good, shut the fuck up.”

As soon as he sent Ward off with Lani and Rumlow (thankfully too—the drama was getting to be a little too much for him to handle), Steve made his way over to James. The paramedic had just finished securing the bandage by the time he got there, and James was still as grumpy as ever.

“I’m going to check Ward’s apartment now, you coming?” Steve asked, hoping James would see it as a kind of olive branch. “Maybe HPD found something Ward ‘forgot’ to tell us.”

James gave him an are-you-kidding-me stare for a moment (Steve was so confused at what he did wrong) before silently standing up from the ambulance and leading the way back across the street to the apartment. Steve followed him in obedient silence, not eager to instigate another argument.

If Ward’s apartment wasn’t a mess before, it definitely looked like shit now. As soon as Steve entered, the smell that hit him was a pungent mixture of gunpowder, smoke, and expired take-out food. The exchange of gunfire destroyed parts of the kitchen and living room that were visible from the doorway; the wooden kitchen cabinets were splintered, an old couch and pillows were shredded, and the TV screen was shattered. Several empty bottles were smashed on the ground, but Steve guessed they could’ve also been from the scuffle that ensued before they arrived. Throughout the apartment, a few officers were busy combing through Ward’s belongings.

As he and James waded their way through the debris, one of the officers approached them.

“Captain,” she said as she handed him a gun in an evidence bag. “This was the only firearm we found, but we’re doing another search as we speak. Is this the one you were looking for?”

Steve didn’t have to look at it for very long to know that it wasn’t the gun that was used on his dad. “No, but thanks for looking. Did you find anything else?”

The officer shook her head. “Nothing unusual, sir.”

Steve nodded. “That’s fine. Do you mind if we take a look around?”

“Not at all.”

She continued to search the kitchen cabinets as Steve and James made their way deeper into the apartment, putting gloves on as they walked. The place wasn’t very large—past the living room was only a bedroom and bathroom—but Ward had a lot of crap to look through.

“What d’you expect us to find in this dump?” James asked bitterly as a kicked aside an empty pizza box.

“Anything that could tell us more about Garrett,” Steve replied. He poked his head into the bedroom.

Two officers looked to be finishing up their search; a few evidence bags filled with various items already sat of the bed.

“You think Ward lied and he actually knows Garrett more than he’s letting on?” James continued, his voice hinting that he wasn’t entirely convinced.

“I think that Garrett wouldn’t pick Ward randomly if he didn’t trust the guy. And Ward just may not realize it.” Steve approached the bed and looked to one of the officers. “May I?” he asked, pointing to their gathered evidence.

The officer nodded, and Steve examined the items. One of them was a picture of Lani, with one edge slightly singed from being recently burned. He quickly dropped that one back on the bed. The others were small packets of small white powder.

“Ward didn’t seem like a drug addict, did he?” Steve asked.

James looked at the bags from over Steve’s shoulder. “A murderer, yes. Drug addict, not so much.”

“‘Cept fo’ some _pakalolo_ ,” one of the officers interjected, handing them a small wooden box. “Not that that really counts.”

James took the box and only had to look at the contents for a second before he was rolling his eyes. “Okay, so the guy was a pothead, big deal. What’s he doing with the rest of this shit? Dealing?”

“We can ask him,” Steve replied with a frown. Honestly, he didn’t care about Ward at all. He was only out to get Garrett, and Garrett didn’t seem to be one to get involved in the drug trade. But if he was… well, it was a lead to follow up on.

“We’re heading back now, sir,” one of the officers said. “Want us to take that with us? We’ll get the lab to identify it.”

“Sure, thanks.” Steve handed them back the bags before they left. As soon as they were gone, he surveyed the room and the clutter that filled it.

“Let’s just get this over with,” James grumbled as he began rifling through a pile of clothes.

For once, Steve couldn’t agree more with him.

\--------------------

_Eastbound on the H-1 freeway, Honolulu_

It had been a huge goddamn waste of time.

Steve and James had done their own thorough search only to come up empty handed—Steve had even depleted his pocket’s entire stash of peppermint candies out of frustration. Just as they were about to leave, Natasha called to inform them that her contact was trying to get word of Garrett’s location, but it could take a while. Maybe even a few days. And, worst of all, as they were about to head back to headquarters, James seemed even more pissed off than ever.

So, naturally, Steve spent the drive back doing all the talking.

“But here’s what I’m still confused about.” By now, Steve realized that James had no intent on adding anything to the conversation, but Steve could be just as stubborn. “Why would Garrett even need to rob a bank anyway? The guy’s rich.”

James stared wordlessly out the passenger-side window, just as he had been doing for the past ten minutes. (Before they left Ward’s Steve had insisted that he drive since James was hurt. James stared at him for a few seconds before replying with a curt “fine” and settling himself into the passenger seat. So. Frustrating.)

“Maybe he needed money to get Quinn,” Steve continued, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in thought. “And he didn’t want the money to trace back to him so he went ‘hey, what the hell, I’ll just rob a bank!’”

Steve glanced at James from his peripherals. His meager attempt at humor was met with bitter silence.

“Why would he want to kill Quinn anyway? Unless he had something against Garrett… or maybe his company?” Silence. “Which reminds me, why would Garrett think that we wouldn’t match his gun? Did he pay someone off to cover his tracks?” Steve turned to James. “What d’you think, James? Think he’s paying HPD to turn a blind eye?”

James shifted in his seat uncomfortably at the direct question, but didn’t say anything, and Steve officially had it. He didn’t think that whatever wrong thing he did deserved this much attitude.

“Alright, if you have something to say to me, can you just spit it out already.”

James gave him a confused look. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“Yeah, and that right there?” Steve removed a hand from the steering wheel to point at James, albeit a little rudely, but he had a point to make. “That’s the problem. If we’re going to be partners, you gotta use your words.”

“Really? I have to use my words?”

“Yeah, you do.”

“What, is that like a new job requirement?”

“It’s not new, it’s an old one.”

“Really? Was this established before or after you stole my damn case?”

Steve rolled his eyes. This again? “Actually, it was established when you got completely wasted in less than two hours last night and I had to walk you home.”

James stared at Steve blankly for a moment before turning back to stare out his window again. “You know what? Let’s just not talk.”

“You mean like right now or ever again?”

“How ‘bout both.”

Steve, against his will, let out a small huff of frustration. Under normal circumstances, he would surely be able to keep his cool, but this? James Barnes? He was absurd.

Without a care about road safety (and the fact that he was sort of a cop now, so he should actually be concerned about those matters), Steve jerked the steering wheeling to pull them to the side of the road. The road was in worse shape than it looked though, and veering off the road was a bumpier ride than he had planned, but Steve ignored all of that. He shifted the car into park just as James started yelling at him in horror.

“What the hell, man? This is my car you’re messing up here!”

“Your car is fine,” Steve assured both James and himself. “But we’re not going anywhere until you tell me what your problem is with me.”

“My problem? My problem with you?”

“Yeah.”

James gave him the are-you-kidding-me look again. “Okay, you wanna know what your problem is?”

“Yeah. Well, besides stealing your case because I already apologized for that. While you were drunk.”

“Fine. You almost got us killed!”

Steve blinked at him a few times. He couldn’t really deny that.

“You took a stupid, idiotic risk!”

Also true.

“I got shot because of you!”

Well…

“You’re right…” Steve interjected. “But… I said I was sorry?”

James stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. “No, you didn’t! You didn’t say sorry!”

Steve narrowed his eyes as he tried to think back. Now that James mentioned it…

James sighed angrily as he turned back to his window. “Rule number one: if you get somebody shot, _you apologize_!”

“Okay, look, I’m…”

“You don’t wait for a special occasion…”

“Okay, I…”

“… like birthdays, or fuckin’ Presidents’ Day…”

“Alright! Okay! I’m sorry, okay? I’m very, very sorry for getting you shot.”

After a slight pause, James finally replied, much calmer but still slightly annoyed. “Your apology is noted, acceptance is pending.”

Steve couldn’t completely hold back a grin for some reason. “Cool. You let me know now.”

James didn’t say anything for a while, so Steve put the car back into gear and watched the cars speeding by, looking for an opening to pull back onto the road.

“But you know…” he said, breaking the silence. “Labor Day was last Monday…”

“Rogers, please shut the fuck up and drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These kids are so moody all the time…
> 
> Some word translations:  
> “lolo” = crazy  
> “pakalolo” = marijuana, weed, pot, whatever the kids call it these days  
> "shaka" = a friendly hand gesture; usually used in greeting/parting or thanking someone (Example: Someone lets you cut in their lane on the freeway? They deserve a shaka! Or just wave, whatever works.)
> 
> The Pali Highway is beautiful except if you’re stuck in traffic. (Nothing’s beautiful in traffic.) And only some parts have the 1,000 foot drop. I also heard that there are ghosts at night. (!!!)
> 
> Also, since this is the first time I’ve mentioned a specific day, I imagined this story to start off in September 2013. Is this important? Probably not.
> 
> If you noticed, I have a headcanon that involves Steve’s love/habitual eating of peppermint candies. This headcanon also extends to Bucky and was very vaguely mentioned in Chapter 8 (hint: it involves a kind of fruit). Is this important? I don’t know yet.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://sassembled.tumblr.com)! I love to hear what people think about where this story is headed.


	11. Regroup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you noticed, I've started to add chapter titles! They aren't supposed to have any deep meaning to them and are mainly just for me to remember what happened in that chapter when I look back.
> 
> Also, thanks to everyone for the comments and kudos! Each one really motivates me to keep writing, not to mention they make me extremely happy.
> 
> Enjoy the update!
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE: Added about 300 words near the beginning just for laughs and not for the plot. (Oct. 25)

_Task force headquarters, Downtown_

“James… James, wake up.”

James let out a whine that he was 25 years too old for, but he didn’t really care. He was injured, exhausted from blood loss, and had such a comfy sleeping position against the car door…

“Five more minutes,” he tried to plead, but he was too tired to enunciate and the words sounded more like a series of moans.

There was a loud sigh, but since no one was dragging him out of his sleep, James figured he won his five extra minutes. He dozed off again, but it only seemed like a few seconds before he was unceremoniously reawakened by someone pulling out his car door “bed” from under him.

“What the—!” he exclaimed. He quickly sat upright in his seat of instinct, but his mind was still trying to adjust to what was going on around him.

“I only wanted five more minutes,” James groaned, his eyes still squeezed shut.

“And I was nice and gave you ten.”

That voice… James blinked a couple of times. It was bright outside, but they seemed to be parked in the shade so it wasn’t too bad. By the looks of it, they were just outside of the headquarters building. To his left, the driver’s seat was empty, but James’s door was wide open. Of course, Steve was the one holding it there.

James stifled another groan. That did not feel like ten minutes, but he wouldn’t be surprised if his sense of time was skewed. “So you’re a nice guy all of a sudden?”

Steve shrugged. “I mean, I guess it was kinda my fault you got shot, and you looked pretty terrible, so…”

James gave him a tired grin. “Shoulda just stopped when you said ‘pretty’, Rogers.”

 _Oh, shit_. James noticed a second too late that his cocky remark sounded slightly flirtatious.

Thankfully, Steve didn’t seem weirded out.

“I’ll stop at ‘pretty’ when it’s true,” Steve retorted as he rolled his eyes. “Now hurry up.”

“Yeah, yeah, hang on…” James popped open the glove compartment in front of him and pulled out a travel-sized bottle of his favorite hand lotion. He knew it went against his whole cool-and-tough façade that he tirelessly cultivated, but _damn_ he was tired, and the lotion’s fragrance would always wake him right up.

“Are you serious?” Steve asked as James rubbed the lotion into his hands.

“Well, no, but…” Steve gave him a quizzical look. “You keep lotion in your car…? That’s… convenient…”

James rolled his eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Rogers.”

“It was never in the gutter!”

“Don’t lie to me. I know that look, I’ve gotten it before, and I know exactly what you’re thinking about.”

Steve flushed slightly at his words, and James made a mental note to try and embarrass Steve as much as possible.

“I’m not… I wouldn’t… why would I be even thinking about… I mean, what would I be thinking about?”

James looked at him suspiciously. “Are you asking me what I think you’re thinking about?”

Steve nodded as he tried to reassert his confidence by folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I am.”

Normally, James didn’t step up to challenges, but this one was harmless and he was slightly hyped on painkillers. Plus, he wanted to see if he could make Steve blush again.

“Well, if you must know.” James made a point to raise his voice slightly. “I think that you’re thinking about me sitting in this car, a single man all by himself, and jacking o—mmph!”

Before he could finish his sentence, Steve had clamped a hand over his mouth and looked wildly around for any witnesses. James grinned from under the man’s hand once he saw how red Steve was getting.

“Are you crazy?” he asked.

James forced Steve’s hand away with his right arm. “You can’t be so aggressive with me, Rogers. I’m injured here!”

“Yeah, well you’re also a jerk.”

“And you’re a punk. But you can relax, okay? I only use this product for its intended purposes.”

Steve stared at James for a moment, his blush slowly fading. “…Really?”

“Yes, Rogers, really. I just like my hands soft, okay? I’m not a savage.”

“So… all people with dry hands are automatically savages?”

“Do you expect a savage to have hands like mine?” James held his hands up in display. “These hands, Rogers, are a work of art.”

For a moment, Steve just stared at James in silence. He couldn’t tell if the look Steve had was one of skepticism, repulsion, or something else entirely. Either way, James took it as a challenge and stared back.

As it turns out, it was something else entirely. Steve suddenly nodded as if he understood before holding out his own hand. “Let me try some then.”

James narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “And why would I do that?”

Steve sighed impatiently. “Oh, come on! I don’t want savage hands.”

After James didn’t relent for a few seconds, Steve began to _pout_. Like actual childish pouting.

“Oh, come on,” James scoffed, because honestly that was completely unfair. He knew he told himself that Steve Rogers was anything but boyfriend material, but the man was definitely starting to change his mind.

“Please?” Steve asked.

His tone was childishly innocent, but _holy shit_ it still set James on edge.

“Fine,” James grunted, tossing Steve the bottle, because he really couldn’t take any more of that. “But only because you look like shit and I feel bad for you.”

It was partially true, actually. Compared to when they left Waipahu, Steve’s injuries looked significantly worse. The bruises on his face and arms were starting to really show, and the largest cut on his forehead was already bleeding through the tiny bandage the paramedics had applied. But of course, Steve managed to make this tattered appearance look good, something James begrudgingly admitted to himself.

Steve uncapped the bottle and sniffed the contents, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Lemon?”

James only had to glare at him for a split second before Steve began to backtrack.

“I wasn’t questioning your choices, I was just… wondering?”

“I like the smell,” he explained with a shrug. Steve didn't need to know that it was actually Grace that liked the scent first. “Besides, it can wake you right up, and I obviously need that right now.”

Steve rubbed the lotion into his hands and handed the bottle back to James. “Coffee can do that too, you know.”

“Coffee can also be bad for you.” James finally got out of his car and Steve locked it before handing the keys back to James. “If you need liquid caffeine you should have tea.”

They made their way to the building together. Steve held the door open for the both of them.

“Skin maintenance _and_ tea connoisseur?” Steve asked with a teasing grin. The expression looked like it reopened a small cut on his cheek. “What, do you make organic kale juice too?”

James faked a gagging noise in disgust as they crossed the lobby to the elevator. “Hell, no. I still love my hamburgers and French fries. I just figure I should make relatively healthy choices in my lifestyle when I can.”

Steve didn’t respond for a moment as they waited for the elevator. “Does that have anything to do with Grace?”

Okay, this shit was getting way too personal. “Maybe, okay? Can we just stop talking about my life choices here?”

“Suit yourself,” Steve shrugged as the elevator arrived. “What would you rather discuss?”

“I don’t know,” James answered slightly defensively as they rode the elevator to their new office. “Maybe the fact that you should go to the hospital because you look like shit.”

Steve raised his eyebrows in what appeared to be genuine shock. This only made the huge cut on his forehead worse, and a small trail of blood began to trickle down the side of his face.

“I don’t look that bad,” Steve replied honestly.

“You really do.” James pulled out a clean tissue from his pocket and handed it to Steve, pointing to the injury as he did so.

Confused, Steve glanced at his reflection in the shiny elevator wall, frowned, and took the tissue. “I’ve been worse,” he replied as he cleaned his face.

“I don’t doubt that after seeing how reckless you can be.”

Steve sighed, but didn’t argue with the fact.

They arrived at their offices, but James got to the main door first and held it closed.

“Okay, look,” he began, mentally bracing himself for what he was about to say. “I don’t want to seem like I, you know, _care_ about you, but are you absolutely sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”

At first, Steve merely looked at James in surprise. But after a while, he began to smile warmly. James resolutely held his serious expression.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. Really.” Steve nodded towards James’s injured arm. “At least I’m not the one with a GSW.”

James scowled at that, but he opened the office door for Steve anyway. “At least I didn’t get the crap beaten out of me by a pothead.”

“The guy’s a good fighter, I swear.”

“He musta been real good ‘cause damn, Steve, you look like shit.” Sam was at the computer-table hybrid in the center of the room with a few documents pulled up on the screen.

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve replied sarcastically.

“What are friends for, right?” Sam grinned before turning back to the computer. “Anyway, there’s no word on Garrett yet, but I talked to Ward like you asked. He said that the drug at his place was meth, and he only dealt it for some side money but didn’t use. I asked for a drug test just in case, but I don’t think Garrett’s related to this stuff.”

“Probably not, but there’s no harm in trying,” said Steve. “Did the lab say anything?”

“The guy in charge was 100% sure the drug was meth without testing it, but they’ll have actual results, and I quote, ‘when we aren’t so damn busy,’ end quote.”

“Who’d you talk to?” James asked. He hadn’t been there very long, but James had also made a point to befriend those scientists as soon as possible. It usually helped him with cases when he needed fast lab results.

“Some guy with a weird haircut and a huge ego.”

“Stark?” James replied immediately since that was the same first impression that he had on the guy. “Tony Stark?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

Steve turned to James. “So what? Can we trust his opinion?”

James nodded without hesitation. “The guy’s insanely smart. And even though he’s got a huge ego, he wouldn’t say he’s 100% sure on something if he’s not, especially if it’s work-related.”

“Alright, we’ll take your word on it,” Steve said. “But it would still be nice to have official test results.”

“It shouldn’t take as long as he makes it sound,” James said. “The guy upgrades the lab equipment for fun so they can process tests faster.”

“Guess everyone has a hobby,” Sam muttered.

At that moment, Natasha entered the office. She looked to be her normal self, but James could see that something was slightly off—he may have only been Natasha’s partner for a few months but they could read each other like open books. James noticed how tense she was when she walked up to him and how she put a lot of effort to make sure she wasn’t expressing concern. Even if Steve and Sam didn’t notice, James sure did.

But he also knew that Natasha would punch him if he brought it up to the group. So James remained obediently silent on the matter.

“So my source doesn’t know where Garrett is now, but they know where he will be,” said Natasha. Even though James knew she was extremely worried, her voice was amazingly nonchalant.

“That’ll have to do,” Steve replied. “Where and when is that?”

A part of James wanted to smack the guy on the head for being so oblivious to Natasha’s feelings right now. But he figured that Steve was so focused on catching Garrett that he was blind to everything else—for instance, not apologizing for getting his partner shot.

Natasha didn’t seem to mind Steve’s ignorance. In fact, she seemed to appreciate it. “He’s trying to leave the country out of Honolulu Harbor. Tomorrow at 0600 hours on a ship departing for China from Pier 1.”

“That means we only have around… 18 hours to come up with a plan,” Sam said. “And he might not be alone this time.”

“It’ll be enough time,” Steve replied adamantly before turning back to Natasha. “Any chance he’ll leave earlier?”

Natasha shook her head. “If anything, he’ll leave later, but he probably wants to get out as soon as possible.”

“Let’s hope so.” Steve looked to the computer monitors for a moment, now displaying information on Garrett, before turning back to Natasha. “Could we know who your source is?”

Natasha subtly stiffened at this question, but, again, only James seemed to notice. “Sorry, Cap,” she replied, keeping her tone as cool as possible. “But that info’s classified.”

“Natasha…”

“Steve, I’m serious.” And now, Natasha was letting some of her concern show. Not to mention a very intimidating stare. “No one but me can know who they are.”

Steve, _you stubborn idiot_ , looked as if he was about to argue for a moment, but thankfully he seemed to decide against it.

“Alright,” he finally conceded. “But do you trust them at least?”

Without missing a beat, Natasha gave a solemn nod. “With my life.”

\--------------------

Pier 1 was Honolulu Harbor’s foreign container terminal. At every entrance to Pier 1 was a security checkpoint. The problem was that ship security was basically nonexistent compared to airplane security, especially since these ships mainly transported cargo and only very few passengers in comparison. Security was meant to focus on detecting illegal items, not people. So Pier 1 was also surrounded by easily climbable fences.

“Would it have killed them to run some electricity through the damn things?” James asked as he stared at the drawings and schematics of Pier 1 and its meager security.

“That’s taxpayers’ money, James,” Natasha replied with a sigh. “Cost of living’s high enough, and people don’t really care about securing foreign cargo ships.”

James and Natasha were tasked with finding a way to intercept Garrett before he even reached the cargo ship. But they also couldn’t tip him off that they were waiting for him because he would definitely run off again. It was a lot harder than it sounded.

Natasha had relaxed significantly from when she first got back to headquarters, but James could tell that she was still a little tense. He had tried to bring it up a few times once Steve and Sam had left, but she tersely brushed him off on each occasion.

While they were camped out in the office, Steve and Sam left for Pier 1 for a hands-on investigation. The team—if they could even be considered that—unanimously agreed that Garrett definitely had help, so it was safe to assume that anything could happen at the pier without him even being present. This meant that an ally of Garrett’s could be laying traps ahead of time to ensure Garrett’s escape, and they were not about to take that chance. So it was decided that the two-man military would scope the place out while the detectives stayed back and strategized.

But that wasn’t the only reason for the team distribution: Natasha needed to be able to get to her phone at all times in case her contact reached out again with a change in plans, and James… well, Steve insisted (or rather, ordered) that James stay back to rest his arm. Honestly, James didn’t appreciate being coddled; sure, his arm still hurt, but a few painkillers turned it into a dull throb. He didn’t need rest. But he also wasn’t complaining about the air conditioned office.

“So we can’t have too many people on the perimeter or he’ll definitely make us,” James said as he stared at a satellite image of the pier.

“But that’s only when he’s approaching the pier,” Natasha pointed out. “If we can cover the perimeter once he’s inside then we can block him in.”

James nodded in agreement. “That could work. But do we have enough bodies for that?”

“We could get SWAT,” Natasha replied nonchalantly as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“For only one guy?”

“For only one dangerous murderer who staged a bank robbery and killed the former Deputy Chief of Police? Hell yeah.”

“Fair point. So we won’t move until we have eyes on him inside.”

“Our team can keep a lookout inside. Maybe with a few others as backup.”

“We should also have Coast Guard on call, just in case they disembark before we can get Garrett.”

Natasha grinned. “Want to call in the Navy while we’re at it? I’m sure they have a spare submarine floating around for us to borrow.”

James rolled his eyes at her sarcasm. “Sure, we’ll park it just outside of the harbor. Maybe call in the Air Force to get some F-22’s to fly overhead.”

Natasha cackled at that. “Honestly, if this plan really called for it, Steve could probably get us all of those things.”

“I don’t doubt it. The guy’s a stubborn ass. And _you_ made me work with him.”

She shrugged as she swiped through some images of the pier layout. “Well, now you know how I feel working with you.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m as bad as him!” As he said that though, James thought back to his own actions recently. Was he really like that?

No, of course not.

“Okay, here’s an example: the guy barged into Ward’s apartment even after I told him we needed backup!”

“And you did the same thing two months ago on that kidnapping case, remember?”

Right. How could he forget? Natasha gave him a hell of a lecture after that one.

“Well, he was basically torturing Ward for info right after. And I told him it was a bad idea.”

“You nearly dislocated that guy’s arm in Chinatown when he wouldn’t answer our questions about that murder the next block over.”

“Did I tell you he climbed through my window when I wouldn’t answer the door this morning?”

“An effective alarm clock,” Natasha retorted. “Plus, did you forget that time you tackled a suspect off a balcony three stories up?”

“Only because I knew there was a pool to land in! And yesterday, he called the damn Lieutenant Governor when I wouldn’t let him leave the crime scene with a _toolbox_. And then he turned it into _his_ crime scene.”

Natasha sighed, removing her gaze from the computer screen to look James in the eye. “Really, James? What’d you expect him to do? Just go along with what you were saying? He had just set foot into where his own dad was killed. That was his _home_. His emotions were probably all over the damn place. James, be honest with me now, wouldn’t you have done the same?”

James stared off at the wall behind Natasha, biting his lower lip in thought. She was right, he knew that. Actually, James probably would’ve acted a lot worse than Steve had that day. He tried to imagine his own childhood home in New York as a crime scene for a murder… it was unsettling just thinking about it.

And then he realized… would Steve ever want to live there again? A place where such a terrible thing happened… James supposed arresting Garrett would give him a sense of closure at least, but not much. And it’s not like Steve could stay in a hotel room forever…

“Alright, well now that we’ve established that both you and Steve are stubborn children…” Natasha continued, snapping James out of his thoughts. “Even if we surround him, Garrett’s not one to go down without a fight. And we don’t want that.”

“Not to mention he might have his own small army shooting at us,” added James. “SWAT is looking like a necessity after all.”

“Toldja so,” Natasha beamed. “We’ll have to surround them somehow. That’s the only way to force Garrett to give up and minimize the casualties. But that could only force them onto the ship. And if they disembark…”

“We could get a few people on the ship beforehand? No, wait, that’s not likely…”

“We need to surround Garrett by himself, without his lackeys.”

“So we take them out of the equation then.”

“Yeah, but how?”

James thought for a moment. He knew what Steve would say…

“A sniper,” he stated simply.

Natasha looked at him, slightly surprised. “Really? A sniper?”

“We’re going all out already aren’t we?”

“I guess we are.” Natasha pulled up some images of the area surrounding the pier. “There aren’t any tall buildings nearby though. I suppose we could use a tall stack of these cargo containers…”

“Or that crane,” James suggested, pointing it out in one of the pictures.

“Or the goddamn crane,” Natasha repeated. “If we can get it moved to the right position by the end of today, it won’t look suspicious tomorrow morning.”

“Good idea.” James worked through the plan in his head a few times, searching through it for anything they missed. “Is that it?”

“I mean, we still need to work out some of the finer details, but yeah, I think that’s it.”

James couldn’t help but smile. He loved having a plan laid out, something that was obviously went against Steve’s ideology. And since this day had been one of only shitty surprises, it made him ridiculously relieved to finally have some structure. He had to admit, he and Natasha made a great team.

“So I gotta ask,” James began. “Why were you so set on partnering me up with Steve? Besides that stupid excuse about splitting up the military and police backgrounds.”

Natasha shrugged, her gaze set on the computer monitor. “You guys had to get along eventually. Better sooner than later, right?”

“Sure, but while we’re working a case like this? Couldn’t we have saved that for some team bonding shit after this is all over?”

“You don’t really get to know people over a couple of beers, James.”

“So you figured we’d bond in a gunfight?”

“It’s a work in progress.” Natasha looked up from the monitor to smile slyly at James. “There’s still tomorrow’s main event after all.”

\--------------------

_Several hours later, 1900 hours_

Everything was set. SWAT was called, Coast Guard was alerted, Sniper Crane was positioned, and weapons were prepped. According to Natasha’s contact, Garrett’s plans hadn’t changed, and it didn’t sound like he knew they were on to him. All that was left was to get a decent night’s sleep before heading out to Honolulu Harbor before sunrise.

“Alright, so tomorrow morning, we’ll be inside the pier security,” Steve said to the team after they discussed the plan one last time for the day. “But SWAT would stick out if they were seen anywhere near that area. Luckily, the harbor is basically our backyard. From here, it’s an easy five minute drive to the pier, especially at that early in the morning. SWAT will be waiting here for our signal, and it won’t look too suspicious if Garrett does happen to spot them. But this means we have to hold Garrett and any of his allies on our own for a few minutes. We’ll have a few of their guys with us and a sniper, but that’s about it.”

“So rest up tonight is what you’re saying?” Sam asked.

“Sure.”

Natasha sighed before turning to James. “Well, that settles it. James, I’m crashing at your place.”

“What?! Why?”

“It’s easier to drive to the pier from your place than from mine,” Natasha explained. “Plus, someone has to wake you up.”

James shook his head in disbelief. He wasn’t even going to try and argue with her. “Fine, whatever.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sam said. “Steve, you got any extra room? Your hotel is half the distance to the pier compared to my place.”

Steve looked at Sam doubtfully. “There’s a single full-sized bed.”

“You’re welcome to crash with us,” Natasha offered James’s place without hesitation. “Steve too, actually, since you don’t have a car yet.”

“Whoa, hang on,” James interjected. This was beginning to sound like an undesirable slumber party. “Where’s everyone going to sleep?”

“And we really don’t want to intrude on you guys…” Steve added, looking a little flustered at Natasha’s offer.

“Don’t worry about it,” Natasha said. “Two of us can sleep on the bed and the other two can take couches.”

“And now you’re offering up my damn bed,” James muttered in frustration. He wanted to argue more, but he kept thinking about what Natasha said to him earlier about how Steve must feel about his own home. James’s apartment might be more cramped than Steve’s hotel room, but at least it was more like a home. Besides it was only for one night…

“It’s fine, really,” Steve said. “Sam can stay with me, right Sam?”

“And what, share a full-sized bed with a giant like you? No, thanks.”

“You might as well, Steve,” Natasha insisted. “Besides, this is the most advantageous setup. If something happens before we get to the pier tomorrow morning, at least we’ll all be in the same place.”

James watched Steve contemplate her words. Natasha must’ve known she could win over a military guy like Steve by proposing the most advantageous situation.

After a few more seconds of thought, Steve finally decided. “Alright, I’ll join you guys. Of course, if that’s alright with James.”

All eyes immediately turned to James, and it wasn’t like he could say no.

“Fine, whatever,” James relented.

As Natasha and Sam cheered and high-fived each other, James rolled his eyes. Guess this would be an undesirable slumber party after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, you can also find me on [tumblr](http://sassembled.tumblr.com).


	12. The Last Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Midterms and a lack of motivation got to me... hopefully chapter 13 will have less of a wait.
> 
> Enjoy the update!
> 
> UPDATE (Nov. 2): I now realize that chapter 13 will not have less of a wait. Thanks for your patience!

_James’s Apartment, McCully_  
_2200 hours_

When Steve woke up that morning, he did not expect that his day was going to end like this.

Ever since Natasha had insisted that he and Sam spend the night at James’s apartment, Steve has been a little flustered. It was true that the setup was spectacularly advantageous—James lived the closest out of all of them, and having them all in the same place would make communicating a lot easier if something changed overnight. While Steve felt bad for intruding on James, he didn’t mind the change in scenery. Sure the apartment was a mess compared to his hotel room, but at least it felt more like a home.

But the whole thing just felt… _weird_. For one thing, he has known James and Natasha for less than 48 hours and here he was about to have what could be considered a sleepover with them? Honestly, this whole “team bonding” thing was moving a little fast.

Besides, the whole notion of team bonding implied that this task force had a future, and Steve hadn’t really thought about the future recently. Ever since his dad… well, he kind of dropped every other part of his life to find the people responsible. With “his life” being the army—he actually didn’t have much of a life outside of it. (Not anymore at least.) When he agreed to lead this task force, he’d admit he just wanted something to rub in James’s face at the time (what can he say he hates losing). He guess he just figured he would go back to the army after this, keep doing missions around the world, fighting in battle after battle… but what he didn’t realize was that there were battles to be won at home too. _His_ home.

Another unrelated but weird thing about this whole situation was that it felt like he and Sam were third and fourth wheeling this “sleepover”. At first, he thought he was just imagining it—they were all professionals, right? That type of thing was not. But after seeing James and Natasha together earlier that day… well, he just didn’t want to be getting in their way.

Of course, he could’ve just been imagining it. After all, Steve never really had a good handle on romantic situations. People have blatantly flirted with him before and he never realized it until a friend would explicitly tell him afterwards. (And on the rare occasion where he would realize what was going on, he’d usually not know how to handle the situation.) Don’t get him wrong, he could do the whole relationship thing just fine. All those flirting rituals though? Not exactly his forte. It’s not like people had been lining up to date him when he was a small and scrawny teenager.

But he was sure that’s what was happening between James and Natasha. Sure, they were work partners, but how they interacted showed that they had to be more than that. They just got along so damn well. When they’re together, Natasha would constantly tease him and make jokes, and James… well, Steve’s only known him for a day but the guy smiled the most when he was with Natasha. Along with some other hints that Steve’s witnessed while they were at headquarters, Steve was sure that they were in a relationship.

So when it turned out that James and Natasha would be sharing the bed, Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised. Uneasy, but not surprised.

To be fair, it could’ve just been a convenient coincidence. James refused to give up his bed, understandably, and Natasha was the only one small enough to comfortably share it with him.

Still, Steve knew he would have to interfere eventually. If he was planning on there being a future for this team, a relationship could ruin the dynamics of it (not like they were spectacular now), and as the head of the task force, it was Steve’s responsibility to prevent that.

For now, it was a problem for another day.

Steve tiredly brushed his teeth in James’s small bathroom. James had been hospitable enough to provide Sam and him with spare toothbrushes and clothes, while Natasha already had some of her belongings here (further confirming Steve’s suspicions). James’s clothes were admittedly a little tight on Steve, and they even smelled faintly on James’s lemon hand lotion, but Steve didn’t mind.

In the living room, Sam was fast asleep on one of the couches. He would’ve actually fallen asleep as soon as they got there, but Steve forced him to at least take a quick shower before that.

Steve had just finished brushing his teeth when he heard James.

“Mind if I join you?”

Steve turned. James was in the open doorway looking just like Steve had seen him that morning. His hair was sticking in all directions, his eyes were half closed in exhaustion, and his shirt was who knows where. Steve nearly choked on air.

Instead, he wordlessly stepped to the side to give James access to the sink.

“I see Sam’s knocked out cold,” James commented as he searched the cabinet below the sink. “Natasha’s the same. Chasing Garrett must’ve been a real workout.”

“Guess so,” Steve simply replied as he dried off his face and hands.

James pulled out a first aid kit from the cabinet and set it on the counter. “Not like we didn’t see our fair share of action though,” he continued, but unlike before, James didn’t sound too angry about it.

He opened the kit and rummaged through it until he found a bandage roll and some disinfectant.

“Need help with that?” Steve offered. He knew from first-hand experience that it was nearly impossible to bandage an arm singlehandedly.

James looked to him, shrugged, and then handed him the supplies. As Steve took them, James started to remove his old bandages on his own, but Steve quickly batted his hand out of the way.

“Seriously?” James argued. “I can at least do this on my own.”

“Sure, but you don’t have to,” Steve replied as he undid the bandages. “Besides, it was my fault you got shot, as you like reminding me. This is the least I can do.”

James was silent for a while as he stared at his feet. “For the record, I don’t blame you for that, okay? It’s just that… I like having a plan before I go into a situation like that. So when you just stormed in… well, I figured it had to be your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“Honestly, Ward would’ve done the same thing if we had backup. More people might’ve gotten hurt for all we know.”

“Maybe not,” Steve countered. “And maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt at all.”

“Steve,” James saying, turning to Steve and pulling his injured arm away in the process. “Can you just shut up for one second? I’m trying to apologize here.”

Steve blinked at him, not fully comprehending what James was saying. “What…?”

James sighed. “I’m… I’m sorry, okay? For blowing up at you earlier and for all those things I said… and for, you know, punching you.”

Honestly, with the whole mess that Ward and Garrett made, Steve almost forgot about what happened at the warehouse.

“Thanks,” Steve replied. “And I’m sorry too. For… everything that happened today. And yesterday. Since I met you, I guess.”

James grinned at that, a tired but cocky one. “Damn right.” He turned back around so Steve could finish taking off the bandages.

Once Steve cleaned and re-bandaged James’s injury, James insisted on returning the favor with the cut on Steve’s forehead. It was a small scratch, really, but James was adamant. He basically forced Steve to sit on the edge of the bathtub so he could help.

“A small scratch?” he asked incredulously as he cleaned the injury. “Really? Do all small scratches need stitches?”

“It’s like two stitches,” Steve said. He had his eyes closed while James worked so close to them, but he could picture the man’s exasperated facial expressions from the sound of his voice. “It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, and it’s getting infected,” James replied unimpressed. “Sounds like it already infected that brain of yours because you’re obviously lacking common sense.”

Steve smiled. “I thought I didn’t have any to begin with?”

“That’s true.”

Once all injuries were taken care of, it was finally time to go to bed. James wearily trudged to his bedroom while Steve flopped back onto the couch. He was exhausted, of course, but he didn’t think he could fall asleep. Not with them being so close to catching his dad’s killer…

And what if something went wrong? What if Garrett managed to escape? Or maybe… what if he didn’t show up at all? It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Natasha, but he had no idea who her source was and how they were related to all of this. For all he knew, they could be working for Garrett.

After some time of contemplating everything that could go wrong, Steve eventually drifted off into a light sleep.

\--------------------

_Around 4 hours later, approximately 0200 hours_

The first thing that Steve noticed was the sound of a cellphone ringing. The noise sounded distant, so he ignored it. It wasn’t his phone. Maybe it was coming from the hotel room next door. He didn’t know or care.

As he was drifting back to sleep he started to hear Natasha talking softly in another room. But that couldn’t be right. Why was Natasha in his hotel room?

Much closer to him, someone suddenly snored very loudly, and that was when Steve remembered—he was at James’s apartment, not his hotel. His new task force, his team—they were all here. It was like an impromptu sleepover.

Between Sam’s loud snores, Steve could hear Natasha whispering in the other room. “Are you sure?” she asked. She sounded worried and, much to Steve’s surprise, a little frantic.

Sam snored loudly again, and Steve gave up trying to go back to sleep. Still exhausted, he slowly stood up and made his way to the bedroom.

“Alright,” Natasha continued on the phone. “Let me know if anything changes. Oh, and Clint? Be careful, okay?”

She hung up the phone just as Steve got to the doorway and knocked on the frame. As soon as she spotted him, Steve could tell that she didn’t have good news.

“Garrett’s had a change in plans,” she explained, quickly turning on the lights. “Kahului Harbor, 0400.”

Steve needed a second for his groggy brain to process that new information. “Kahului…” He looked to his watch. That was in two hours “ _Shit._ ”

“Exactly,” Natasha agreed. She threw the blankets off of James unceremoniously. “James, wake up, it’s an emergency.” She turned to Steve. “Think you can get a helicopter at this hour?”

“We have to,” Steve said, rushing back to the living room. He turned on the lights there, instantly waking Sam up.

“Wuz happenin’?” Sam asked groggily, his eyes squinting from the sudden brightness.

“Plans changed,” Steve explained, already dialing numbers into his cell phone. “Can you fly a helicopter?”

“A helicopter? Where to?”

“Kahului. Maui.”

Sam’s eyes widened at this in surprise. “A whole ‘nother island, huh? Sure, why the hell not?”

\--------------------

_Above Lahaina Roads, en route to Kahului Harbor, Maui_  
_Around 0345 hours_

“Ten minutes, guys!” Sam shouted over the noise of the helicopter.

“That ship’s undocking in fifteen minutes,” Natasha pointed out. “We’re cutting it a little close, aren’t we?”

“I let Coast Guard know about the change,” Steve said. “They should be able to stop the ship before it hits international waters, but it’ll be a close call. It would be better if we could stall them, or even keep them from disembarking entirely.”

“And SWAT?”

Steve shook his head. “They’re ten minutes behind us. We either get Garrett on our own or hold him here until backup arrives.”

Saying the inevitable out loud made him even more worried. Garrett obviously knew they were on to him and that took away the element of surprise. And now they didn’t have their backup… while Steve wasn’t concerned about his own wellbeing, he was particularly worried about his team’s. With the four of them against a small army, their odds weren’t spectacular. And if one of them were to get hurt, or worse…

His worry must have shown because James, who had been quiet and grumpy-looking since they left the ground, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, looking Steve firmly in the eyes. “We’re your backup, alright?”

Steve nodded, and although he didn’t say anything in reply, James’s words did help him relax a little. Even though this team was brand new and things have been a little rocky from the start, Steve realized that they all had each other’s backs. As long as they looked out for each other, they would all be okay.

“Alright,” Steve began with his newfound confidence. “We’re a little low on manpower but we can still make this work. Natasha, how well can you shoot from the air?”

“As well as I shoot from the ground,” she replied confidently. “As long as the pilot’s not planning on doing any barrel rolls.”

“I’m not making any promises!” Sam shouted back.

“Alright, you and Sam will keep them occupied from here,” Steve said. “The sun won’t rise for a while so if you stay far enough out of the light from the harbor they’ll have trouble shooting back.”

“Sounds good. Where will you two be?”

Steve glanced at James—after his brief display of kindness, the man resumed his grumpy demeanor as he hunched over in his seat in silence, his hands gripping each other tightly and his eyes glued to his feet. His mood swings were all very confusing.

“You guys will drop us off about a hundred meters away,” Steve explained regardless. “Sam, once we get close enough, try see if you can use some of those cargo containers for cover. Once we get to the ground, draw their attention seaward so we can get close and maybe have a chance at surrounding them.”

“This chopper might take some hits though,” Natasha said. “You sure HPD won’t mind a couple of bullet holes in their newest bird?”

“It’ll be fine,” Steve lied, not that he really cared about the repercussions. “Shoot to disarm if you can, but the darkness and the fact you’re in a helicopter might make that difficult. Just don’t kill us or Garrett.”

Natasha nodded. “We’ll let you know if we see Garrett. Just keep us updated on your locations.”

“Will do.” Steve turned to James, who hadn’t moved an inch during Steve’s explanation of the plan. “James, you got it?”

James only gave a slow and small nod in response. As he did so, Steve noticed his jaw clench up and his hands clench each other even tighter. Suddenly, Steve realized that James wasn’t just grumpy about the sudden change in plans or the lack of sleep. Steve looked to Natasha for an explanation, but she merely shrugged in response, looking just as confused as Steve felt.

“James, are you okay?” Steve asked.

James didn’t look up from the ground. “Fine,” he mumbled, barely audible over the racket of the spinning rotor.

“You don’t look fine,” Steve replied.

“Yeah, you look like shit,” Natasha added.

Steve gave her a that-was-not-very-helpful look before turning back to James. “Are you carsick? Well, maybe not _car_ sick, but you know… Do you need like… a bag or something? Fresh air? Wait, we already have a lot of that. Uh… water? Would water help? We’re a few minutes out. You could take it easy and I can cover the ground on my own…”

James snapped his head up at Steve’s last few words, looking incredulous. “You’re joking right? We’re already short on people and you want to go in alone?”

“I don’t _want_ to, but if you’re not feeling well, it’d be better if you sat this one out.”

“You’re fucking crazy…” James mumbled, looking back to his feet and regaining his scowl. “I’ll be fine once we land, it’s just…” He took a deep breath before continuing. “… I don’t like heights.”

Oh… well, shit.

For a moment, the helicopter was silent except for the loud spinning rotor. Steve glanced at Natasha but she looked just as surprised as he felt. He suddenly remembered how James hesitated for a good five seconds before boarding the helicopter back in Honolulu and briefly wondered why he didn’t say anything at the time. Then he realized that he would’ve probably done the same thing if he were in James’s position.

After a few seconds of thought, Steve dug in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a handful of peppermints. He held them out to James.

“Want one?”

James gave him a questionable look before taking one of the candies. “This isn’t some kinda drug, is it?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “ _No_ , it’s just candy.” He offered one to Natasha who accepted it without hesitation.

“Is it like… magic candy or something?” James asked doubtfully.

“It’s just a normal peppermint. Just try it, okay?”

“Hit me up too, Cap,” Sam said from the cockpit.

Steve rolled his eyes at the nickname that he couldn’t seem to shake but handed him a candy anyway.

James continued to stare at the unwrapped candy, unconvinced. “If it’s just plain peppermint what good is it going to do?”

“Just eat the damn candy, James,” Steve said firmly. “And that’s an order.”

James scrunched up his nose slightly in protest but complied. “An abuse of authority is what that is,” he muttered bitterly as he did so.

Five minutes later, Steve could still feel James’s nerves acting up, but the detective had relaxed significantly compared to before. Outside, Steve could see them nearing Kahului Harbor, dimly lit by a couple of incandescent street lights. Further inland wasn’t much better—while the city of Kahului was more brightly lit than the harbor, it still dimmed compared to the lights of Honolulu. Steve might’ve found the sight relaxing if they weren’t about to fly into a firefight.

“We’re coming up on the harbor, Steve!” Sam announced. “You guys ready?”

Steve glanced at James who gave a short but determined nod in reply.

“We’re ready!”

As soon as the words left Steve’s mouth, the sound of rapid gunfire echoed in the near darkness.

“I think they heard us!” Natasha yelled calmly over the noise as did one final check over the rifle in her arms.

“You sure about that?” Sam shouted back.

“Can you still drop us off?” Steve asked.

“If I fly high enough over them beforehand and stay out of the light. It’s gonna be a touch-and-go, guys, get ready to jump out.”

As Sam piloted the helicopter high above the harbor, Steve peered down at the docked ship.

“Looks like a dozen guns, maybe more. They’re all running for the ship now so we’re sticking to the plan. If we can’t take them on our own, at least try to hold them until SWAT arrives.”

“Coming up to your stop, Cap!”

Before Sam could even touch the ground, Steve had already thrown open the helicopter down and leapt outside. James followed soon after, and as the helicopter flew further away, the sound of gunfire and ricocheting bullets replaced it.

“We’ll stay put until Sam gets into position and Natasha starts drawing their fire,” Steve said, moving up to one of the shipping containers closer to the ship.

“And for once I actually agree with you,” James replied as he followed.

As they waited for the sound of Natasha’s shooting, Steve noticed James shift his left shoulder a bit then grimace slightly in discomfort.

“You sure you’re okay?” Steve asked, feeling a little guilty for making an injured man walk into a gunfight with him.

“I’ll be fine,” James replied adamantly. “Besides, I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

Before Steve could even process James’s words, the echoing shots from Natasha’s rifle shook the air.

‘That’s our cue,” James said and immediately began leading the way towards the ship.

As they made their approach, Steve was surprised at how effective his nonverbal communication with James was, especially considering they only met a few days ago. After only a few minutes, they made it to the entrance of the ship safely and without the slightest bit of confusion, the two guys they encountered knocked out cold behind them. Maybe they didn’t make such a bad team after all.

And it seemed like Natasha and Sam’s distraction was paying off. Sam’s flying placed them just far enough so Steve could only see a faint outline of the helicopter against the dark sky but close enough so that Natasha’s shots could reach the ship. From what Steve could see, she had already downed a handful guns.

“We’re about to board,” Steve said into his earpiece.

“Yeah, so don’t shoot us, Nat,” James added.

“You’re clear. Don’t me give any reason to and you’ll be fine.” Natasha’s voice shouted eerily casual compared to the harsh gunshots in the background.

Steve led the way onto the ship, his finger poised just above the trigger of his raised gun and his mind on high-alert. His ears soaked in every single sound, filtering through the gunshots for any indication of a surprise attack against them. His eyes constantly scanned his surroundings, searching for any immediate threats or abnormalities. He hadn’t felt this on-edge since… well, since last week. But last week he was in a warzone—official enemy territory. He expected that he wasn’t safe and people wanted to kill him. Now he was in his home state, a place he thought was supposed to be safe. But with everything that’s happened in the past few days… it was like he never left the warzone, and that fact made him grit his teeth in rage. What the hell had happened while he was gone?

“Natasha, any sign of Garrett?” Steve asked, his voice sounding much calmer than he actually felt.

“Neg,” she replied. “But there’s a lot more gunfire coming from back aft.”

“Copy.” Steve glanced behind him and made eye contact with James. “James, you clear forward. Natasha, watch his back and look for any runners. I’m sweep forward for Garrett. Go slow, be safe.”

James nodded as Natasha replied with a “Copy,” and Steve split from the group.

Over the next several minutes, Steve had encountered and immediately knocked out five or six hostiles, but there was no sign of Garrett. Both he and James combined had nearly covered the whole upper deck, which could only mean…

“He must be on a lower level,” Steve said into his earpiece. “Sam, how far out is SWAT?”

“Three minutes,” Sam answered. “They sure like to take their damn sweet time.”

“There’re three access points to the lower decks,” Natasha said. “One forward, one aft, and one in the middle. James, the one by you is 8 yards, your 10 o’clock. Steve, yours—you got movement, 6 o’clock!”

Steve dove for cover on instinct—he only began processing what Natasha said as a stream of bullets pelted the ground he had just left.

“I think I found Garrett!” Steve shouted into his earpiece over the blaring gunfire.

“Sounds more like he found you,” James commented, and Steve actually found his sarcasm slightly relieving amid the chaos.

“I can’t get a clear shot, Steve,” Natasha said. “James?”

“I’m on my—shit! They’ve got backup.”

“I’ve got Garrett,” Steve said adamantly. “Natasha, help James.”

“Are you—copy that.”

Steve looked around him, trying to find another way to approach a trigger-happy murderer like Garrett. Just as he was calculating how he could jump to the top of a shipping container and possibly tackle the man from above, the gunfire stopped and the weapon clicked—Garrett was out of ammo.

With his gun raised, Steve jumped out from his hiding place, but Garrett was one step ahead of him. He was already charging towards Steve, weaponless but crouched low. By the time Steve could readjust the aim of his gun, Garrett had already tackled him to the ground. The impact knocked the gun from Steve’s hand and his comms from his ear, and Garrett was already scrambling for Steve’s backup gun in its holster.

Steve seized Garrett by his wrists as used as much force as he could muster to pull him to the side. But that force wasn’t much given that Steve was lying on the ground with hardly any room to maneuver and Garrett was pushing back with almost as much force. (Steve had to admit, this middle-aged tech company CEO was a lot stronger than he looked.)

The move did give Steve a few feet of space, but the freedom didn’t last long. By the time he retrieved and aimed his backup gun, Garrett was already able to easily kick if from his hands. He was also just about to stomp on and crush Steve’s head, but Steve managed to roll to the side just in time.

Furious, Garrett charged at Steve again, but this time Steve was ready. Sure, he was still lying on the ground but he was ready. Steve didn’t move from his spot except to partially sit up and shift his weight to his arms, eyes trained on Garrett’s movements…

As soon as Garrett was close enough, Steve aimed a sweeping kick at the man’s legs. Garrett immediately crashed to the ground, a loud thud sounding out when he made contact with it. And there it was—an opening. Garrett looked to be down for at least a few seconds, so Steve took the chance. He turned his back for a moment to retrieve his backup gun from the ground before Garrett could get another chance…

And then a loud gunshot rang out behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr as [sassembled](http://sassembled.tumblr.com)!


	13. Closed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the wait! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Also, there’s a mildly gory description near the beginning of the chapter. If you’d like to avoid it, you can skip to this line.

James was frozen.

He was several yards away when it happened. James had just knocked out the last of the ship’s crew when he glanced up to see Steve bending down to retrieve his gun from the floor… and Garrett standing up right behind him.

And then it was like time had slowed, and James couldn’t move from his spot. Steve seemed to be standing miles away, and with every passing second, Garrett was getting closer and closer to him. And James felt like he was only there to watch, to witness Steve getting shot right in front of him.

But there was no way he was going to let that happen.

“Steve!” he shouted, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

But it was too late. Before the words even left James’s mouth, Garrett already had a gun raised and aimed at Steve’s back. James didn’t even have to think twice; he broke into a sprint towards Steve, ready to knock him out of the bullet’s way—

And then a shot rang out, reverberating throughout James’s entire body and making him freeze unwillingly in mid-sprint. He was still a distance away, but he could barely make out Steve’s face under the dim light as he stared back at James in frozen shock. For a moment, James had feared that the worst had happened—but then Garrett collapsed to the ground behind Steve, unmoving.

It was only then that James noticed the sound of multiple helicopters flying closer to them. In the early morning sky, he could barely make out the white “S.W.A.T.” letters boldly printed on two incoming choppers.

“James! Steve!” Natasha’s urgent voice rang out in his ear, snapping him out of his frozen state. “Goddammit, one of you better answer me _right now_.” Had she been trying to talk to them this whole time? “What the hell is happening down there?”

“Nothing,” James hastily replied, but backtracked once he realized that was a stupid answer. “I mean…” He made his way over to Steve and looked from him to Garrett’s lifeless body. “It’s over. It’s over, and we’re okay.”

At the sound of James’s words, Steve seemed to snap out of his own daze and turned towards Garrett himself. He slowly walked up to the man and crouched down next to him to check for a pulse.

“What do you mean ‘it’s over’?” Natasha asked incredulously. “Just like that? What about Garrett?”

“Garrett…?” James repeated, directing it as a question towards Steve.

But as soon as Steve looked at him, James knew it was bad news—for Steve, at least. It was a faint look in Steve’s eyes that James never expected to see: a look of defeat. The expression was only there for a second before it was replaced with a slightly more professional expression of disappointment. Steve shook his head.

“Garrett’s… dead,” James said. He took a step closer to the body. Under the dim yellow incandescent lights, James could see a dark liquid matting down the hair in the back of Garrett’s head and dripping down into a pool on the ground. What was even more telling was the distinct smell of iron that was growing stronger by the second.

Garrett was very much dead, along with everything he knew about this case. 

Normally, James wouldn’t really mind. Sure, he was never a fan of people dying on his watch, even criminals. But in their line of work, sometimes there was no other way. He hated to admit it but the job had gotten him accustomed to death—accustomed, but still not a fan.

But for this case, James knew that bringing in Garrett alive meant getting closure for Steve. If Garrett really did kill Steve’ father, James had a feeling that Steve’s idea of closure was at least making Garrett face a life sentence or two. So Garrett dead meant next to nothing, and Steve would be deprived of that closure. And James knew a thing or two about that.

The SWAT helicopters landed on the pier and a flood of fully-geared officers streamed out, combat-ready. A few of them began sweeping the pier, but most of them began boarding the ship. One of them spotted Steve and James, lowered his weapon, and made his way towards them.

“Captain Rogers, sorry about the wait. Are you okay?”

But Steve was in no mood for pleasantries. “Did you shoot this man?” he asked, not looking up from the fatal gunshot wound in the back of Garrett’s head. His voice sounded as if he was restraining his anger.

“I—I’m sorry, sir?”

Steve snapped his head up to look the man in the eye, and James had seen a similar expression before. It was the look Steve gave him the first time they met a few days ago, just before he took over the case. But right now, he looked much more furious.

“Did you… shoot… this man?” he repeated slowly, pausing in between words for emphasis.

“Uh…” The man glanced around nervously under Steve’s vicious glare. “Well, not _me_ exactly, but—”

“So you gave the order then?”

The man paused for a second, reluctant to give an answer.

“… Yes, sir. But he was about to attack you—”

Steve cut him off as he abruptly stood up. He was only a few inches taller than the man, but he held himself in a way that made him tower over everything else.

“And I was going for my gun! Did you really think I couldn’t handle this?”

“No, sir, I just had to make—”

“My partner was right next to me! If there was trouble, do you think he would’ve just let me get hurt?”

For a second, James wondered who Steve was talking about before he remembered that _he_ was that partner. And there was no way he would’ve made it in time. Some backup he was.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we didn’t see him.”

“We needed this man alive! Didn’t your superiors tell you that…” he squinted at the man’s uniform for a name, “Rollins?”

“They did,” Rollins agreed. “But they changed the orders once they found new evidence.”

Steve stared at Rollins, dumbfounded. James had to admit that he didn’t expect this news either.

“What new evidence?” James asked when it didn’t seem like Steve was too confused to answer. “How? And why didn’t we hear of this?”

“We got an anonymous tip once you took off,” Rollins explained. “Apparently, there’s a storage unit in town that belongs to Garrett under an alias. It had evidence linking him to both the Rogers murder and a bank robbery from a while back.”

“What kind of evidence?” Steve finally spoke up as he folded his arms across his chest.

“I’m not sure, sir. I was just told he didn’t need to be brought in alive since we didn’t need a confession anymore.”

Steve didn’t respond to that and instead looked down at his feet in silence. The frustrated and furious look on his face made James think that Steve really wanted to punch someone, and Rollins would probably be his first choice.

“You can go now,” James told Rollins as he watched Steve from his peripherals. “Thanks for the update.”

Rollins nodded. “Yes, sir,” he replied before moving towards the last guy James knocked out and started handcuffing him.

Once he was out of earshot, James turned to Steve and put a reassuring hand on Steve’s shoulder. He knew nothing he could say would change how Steve felt, so consolation was the least he could do.

“I needed…” Steve began before he paused and shook his head. He had calmed down significantly from when he had been lecturing Rollins, but now his anger was replaced with defeat. He turned his head to stare at Garrett’s body sprawled out on the deck before silently bending down to take his gun back from Garrett’s hands and holstering it. James’s cop-instincts itched to tell Steve that he probably shouldn’t be disturbing a crime scene, but James urged himself to let it go just this once.

Instead, James wanted to give something to hope for, to tell him that whatever he was feeling was only temporary and he would eventually just forget about it all. But based on personal experience, James knew that wasn’t true. It wasn’t even close.

“James…”

James looked from Steve to Natasha and Sam walking briskly towards them. Once they got close, they looked from James, to Steve, to Garrett’s body, then back to Steve, the realization slowly setting in for both of them.

“We… we need to get back to Honolulu,” Steve said, authority slowly finding its way back into his voice. “HPD found new evidence that we have to check out.” He turned to Sam. “How’s the helicopter?”

“Surprisingly, not a scratch,” Sam replied proudly. He put on a ridiculous grin that could only mean he was trying to cheer Steve up as best as he could. “I haven’t flown a helicopter in years, but I still got that magic touch.”

Steve only gave a small smile at that, but it was better than nothing. “Alright, then we’ll head back as soon as we question whoever’s left of the ship’s crew. Maybe one of them knows something important. Natasha, you and I will start questioning them. Sam, once SWAT’s finished sweeping the entire ship, see if you can find anything onboard that might be tied to Garrett. And James, you’re going to see one of the paramedics.”

James frowned. “What for?”

“Your arm’s bleeding, you idiot,” Natasha replied.

James looked down at his arm—she was right. His injury from the previous day was bleeding again and he hadn’t even noticed.

“Well, would you look at that,” James muttered grumpily at his arm. There goes another good shirt of his.

“Get that stitched up again,” Steve reiterated. “Once everyone’s done with their assignments, meet back at the chopper.”

\--------------------

_En route to Honolulu_  
_0530 hours_

Unsurprisingly, the ship’s crew knew nothing about Garrett. In fact, they didn’t even know he was aboard their ship. The only reason they had fired at a police helicopter was because of the several tons of illegal drugs hidden in some of the cargo containers. So any new information on Garrett would have to come from his belongings in the newly found storage unit.

The trip back to Honolulu wasn’t nearly as bad as the trip to Kahului, in James’s opinion. Sure, the fact that they were high above shark-infested waters in a tin can with a motor was enough to make him nervous and queasy, but his exhaustion and the painkillers from the paramedics provided at least some distraction. Next to him, Steve sat silently in thought. He was essentially motionless, except every so often, he would pull out another peppermint from his pocket to eat. In the cockpit, Natasha and Sam kept each other awake as they played “I Spy”—from what James overheard, it wasn’t a very exciting game when you’re flying over the ocean in near darkness.

Once they landed, they immediately went to the crime lab where the items from the storage unit were being examined. And going to the crime lab meant talking to their infamous lead scientist.

“I’ve barely had this evidence for half an hour and you guys are already on my ass about it,” Tony Stark said by way of greeting. “Are you even aware what time it is?”

“Oh, please, Stark,” Natasha replied with a smirk. “I thought you’re always saying that you’re a genius.”

“I _am_ ,” Tony said. “That’s why I already sorted through most of the evidence in the unit. Okay, there wasn’t much stuff to begin with but still.”

He walked them over to a table with several bagged and boxed items on it and pointed to one of the boxes. “These are a bunch of blueprints of that bank that was robbed a year ago. And these,” he waved vaguely at the rest of the boxes, “are filled with cash with serial numbers matching those stolen during that robbery. And _this_ ,” he picked up a gun in a plastic bag and handed it to them, “is the gun used in both that robbery and your current case. Garrett’s fingerprints were all over it.”

Steve took the gun and stared at in silence for a few moments before setting it back onto the counter.

“What about those?” James asked, nodding to the other bagged items on the table.

“Sorry, other cases,” Tony replied before suddenly walking over to the other side of the room where there was a laptop and a desktop monitor on the counter. “But there were also a couple of laptops in the unit. And since I _am_ such a genius, I already figured out what’s on one them. What I was _trying_ to say is that if _I_ wasn’t here—”

“What’s on the laptop?” Steve interrupted, immediately diverting his attention from Garrett’s gun.

Tony frowned for a moment. “Right to business then, I guess. Suit yourself.” He typed a few things onto his computer, projecting his desktop to a larger screen mounted on the wall. “The only thing on this laptop was a single program. Well, that and several layers of encryption that it was hiding under. And for a good reason.

“This program… this is like military-grade shit right here.” As he spoke, he pulled up a window onto the screen that showed a satellite image of the earth. “It’s meant to locate and track any type of communicative device anywhere in the world with unbelievable accuracy. I’m talking about a standard deviation of mere _inches_. All in a matter of seconds.”

“Where would Garrett get this kind tech?” James asked.

Tony shrugged. “I have no idea how a civilian would get their hands on this. The code looks like it uses U.S. satellites but there’s also parts of the program that hide the user from being detected _specifically_ by federal agencies.”

“Do you think the program could’ve been sold on the black market?” Steve asked.

“Probably. Someone could’ve stole it from the U.S. and altered the code a bit before selling it to the highest bidder. Why? Do you know any black market sellers?”

Steve nodded grimly. “I knew _of_ one. Ian Quinn.”

“Quinn?” Sam repeated. “The guy that Garrett had killed in South Korea?”

“That’s the one,” Steve confirmed.

“South Korea?” Tony repeated as he turned back to his computer. “The last coordinates that this program tracked was in South Korea.” As he spoke, the program zoomed into the middle of the Korean peninsula.

Steve stepped towards the screen, eyeing the coordinates. “That’s… that’s where my team was ambushed…” He turned back to Tony. “Can you run the program now?”

“Sure, but I mean…” He glanced around the lab. It was empty except for two scientists conversing by a computer on the opposite side of the room. “It’s most likely illegal for me to be using it. And I am most definitely a law-abiding citizen—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve assured, slightly impatient. “Can you find the current location of the last device they tracked?”

“One sec…” As Tony typed on his keyboard, the map on the screen zoomed back out to its original display before zooming in once more. This time, it focused in onto the Pacific Ocean… then the Hawaiian Islands… then Oahu… Honolulu… Waikiki…

“What the…?” Steve muttered. “That’s… that’s my hotel.”

“Do you have anything trackable there?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, my satphone.”

“Hang on,” Sam said. “How the hell did Garrett know how to track your satphone?”

“All he would need is the phone’s number,” Tony said.

“My dad had the number,” Steve said, his eyes still glued to the map on the screen.

The group was quiet for a few moments. As Steve watched the screen, James could tell that Steve felt even more responsible for his father’s murder after realizing that it was _his_ phone that was being tracked. James and Natasha exchanged wary glances—they were both unsure about what to say next. Fortunately, Sam was the first to speak up.

“Okay, so Garrett and Ward use you and your dad to find Quinn with a program that Quinn sold to Garrett,” Sam said. “And then Garrett uses that location to kill Quinn. How’d they even know that you were with Quinn?”

Steve shook his head. “I have no idea. Besides my team, only a couple other people knew about our mission.”

“There was one more laptop in that storage unit, though,” Tony said. He looked at the other two scientists in the lab. “Fitzsimmons! You found anything yet?”

The two scientists immediately hurried over. As they approached, James vaguely recognized them from his previous trips to the crime lab.

“Nothing much,” Fitz began. He set the laptop he was holding onto the counter and typed in some commands; the screen on the wall changed to display his desktop. “It seemed like he only used this computer to access a burner email, but he already deleted the account.”

“The good news is that he didn’t wipe his hard drive completely,” Simmons continued as she worked on the tablet in her hands. “We’re running our own program that can pull up any images he viewed. The results should be coming up right… about… now!”

At her words, several image thumbnails appeared on the screen. From the laptop, Fitz navigated through each of them one by one. The first few were taken in what looked like a military outpost in the forest. The soldiers shown had North Korean flags on their uniforms. And in each of them was a man that looked extremely out of place in his fancy suit and neatly styled hair.

“That’s Quinn,” Steve muttered. “In North Korea. Just before…”

As Fitz skipped through the images, the content began to change. The next dozen images were blurred smudges of green, brown and gray. When the next in-focus images came up, they were still of soldiers, but not the North Koreans…

“That’s… that’s my team!” Steve said. “Just after we caught Quinn.”

His words were confirmed shortly after when Fitz pulled up an image zoomed in on the face of one soldier in particular: Captain Steve Rogers.

“That’s the last one,” Fitz said, his voice slightly quieter than before.

“When were these sent?” James asked.

Simmons squinted at her tablet. “Last Tuesday. Around 8 PM.”

“So that’s… 3 PM on Wednesday in Korea,” Natasha said.

“That’s around the time we captured Quinn,” Steve said. “Garrett must’ve been getting a live feed.”

“From North Korea? Shit,” Tony sighed. “If he could do that _and_ get his hands on a program that can track military-issued satphones, he would have no trouble at all trying to identify a clear face in a picture.”

“Well, that explains how Garrett knew to go after you to find Quinn,” Sam said. “But it still doesn’t explain why he wanted Quinn dead.”

“Quinn was selling something to the North Koreans when we caught him,” Steve explained. “Whatever he was selling was destroyed when we caught him, but it was information of some sorts. It must’ve been something against Garrett.”

“So to summarize,” James began. “Garrett and Quinn are in business together. But Quinn double-crosses Garrett, so Garrett has him killed?”

“Yeah,” Steve muttered softly. “And my dad ends up getting caught in the crossfire.”

The group grew silent for a few seconds as everyone but Steve hesitated about what to do next. While they had everything they needed to close this case, it still felt so far from completion, and James did not want to be the one to wrap it up, especially since it was so personal for Steve. And while James didn’t know what was on everyone else’s minds, he could guess they were thinking the same thing.

“So…” Tony finally spoke up. “Is that it then? Is this a closed case?”

All eyes turned to Steve, but he remained silent for a moment.

“Yeah,” Steve eventually replied solemnly, his eyes now glued to his own image on Garrett’s laptop. “I guess that’s it then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I am so sorry this chapter took so long to complete! Honestly, this chapter was kind of a pain to write. Back in October, I had +4k words written out, but recently (in December) I decided to scrap all of it and start over. And of course, finals happened and made everything worse. I will do my best to not let a 2 month wait happen again!
> 
> I am very excited to finally close the Garrett case. Now the team can work on other cases! Let me know if there’s anything in particular you’d like to see the team doing!
> 
> Also, since I last updated, I made some changes to the previous chapters. The most notable changes were that I switched the orders of chapters 2 and 3 and made some edits to the beginning of chapter 11. These changes did not alter the storyline so it’s not necessary to read them.
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading and for your lovely comments! Feel free to chat with me on tumblr at [sassembled](http://sassembled.tumblr.com).


	14. Reflections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It didn't take me 2 months to update this time! Strangely enough, I had no idea how this chapter was going to go for the longest time, and then I ended up writing this in just over a day.
> 
> As always, thanks for waiting, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please note that it's from Steve's POV and he's a little... distraught.

_Task force headquarters_  
_1300 hours_

“Steve? Steve. _Steve!_ ”

Steve’s eyes snapped from his computer screen to Sam standing in the doorway of his office. “Sorry, what?”

Sam sighed before walking up to Steve’s desk. “You know you don’t have to be here right now.”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve replied, turning back to his computer. He had been trying to fill out a report for his dad’s case for hours, but he had barely typed anything so far. “After all, it is a workday.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve worked more in the past few days than some people will in a month.”

Steve shrugged. “I like working. Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do.” He frowned, then turned back to his friend. “ _You_ don’t have to be here either. Go home, get some rest.”

“I do what you do, Rogers. And who else will give you a ride home?”

“What about James and Natasha?”

It was Sam’s turn to frown. “They both left, man. Ages ago.”

For some reason, Steve felt a little disappointed by that news. “Together?”

“You don’t remember?”

Steve paused for a moment and thought back. As soon as they returned to their headquarters from the crime lab, James did mention he had to be somewhere… something about his daughter, was it? And a few hours later, Natasha got a text and asked to leave as well.

“Right, I remember now,” Steve assured, vaguely remembering telling both of them that they could take the rest of the day off. “It just… slipped my mind.”

Truthfully, Steve could hardly recall what happened ever since they left the crime lab. He remembered fragments, but the rest was mostly a blur. Most of the time, all he could think about was the information they found on Garrett’s laptop… how they had been tracking Steve’s satphone… how they used his dad to get that information… how his dad was _murdered_ because of him… and even Garrett was killed before Steve could even…

“Look, Steve,” Sam began. “You’ve done enough today. Come on, I’ll drive you back to your hotel, or you could even stay at my place if you like. I just started a free trial month of Netflix last week—we can binge watch whatever you want!”

Steve gave him a small smile. He didn’t know how he got so lucky to have a friend as amazing as Sam Wilson. “Thanks, Sam, but I’m fine really. I just want to—”

A knock at the main office door interrupted him. Sam sighed, slightly frustrated, but he stuck his head out of Steve’s office to see who it was.

“ _Holy shit!_ ” Sam exclaimed, quickly jumping back into Steve’s office. “That’s… that’s the freakin’ Lieutenant Governor!”

“Fury?” Steve asked, quickly getting to his feet. Even though they just closed their first case, Steve wasn’t expecting to see Nick Fury anytime soon. Fury was a busy guy—a phone call would’ve sufficed.

“You didn’t know he was coming here?” Sam asked.

“Of course not,” Steve replied adamantly, smoothing out his shirt. He faced Sam. “How do I look?”

Sam hesitated for a second too long before answering. “You look great.”

“ _Sam_ …”

“Alright, you look like shit. But a fine piece of shit, so just _go_.” Sam ushered Steve out of his own office before closing the door behind him.

Steve sighed before making his way to the main entrance.

“Sir,” Steve greeted once he opened the door. He shook Fury’s hand. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

“I could say the same thing,” Fury replied. “Honestly, I didn’t think you and your team would solve this case as quickly as you did. I’m surprised.”

“We work well together,” Steve said.

Fury smiled proudly. “And it shows. Do you folks have a name yet? For your team?”

Steve paused for a moment. He hadn’t actually thought about staying in Hawaii and working on cases with this task force. When he accepted the job, all he could think about was catching his dad’s killer. But if he had learned anything these past few days, it’s that his home state has changed a lot since he’s left, and not in a good way.

“I… I wasn’t aware that we needed one, sir.”

“If you guys are going to be working together, you gotta have a name for yourselves,” Fury insisted. “Now, I wanted to call you guys the Special Task Force Unit, but my assistant highly discouraged it. Sure would’ve livened up my meetings with the Department of Public Safety though…”

Steve smiled at the thought of the government trying to figure out how to fit “Special Task Force Unit” on a bulletproof vest. “We’ll think of one, sir,” he assured.

Fury nodded, but remained quiet for a few seconds.

“So…” Fury began, his voice much less firm than before. “I’m also here to talk to you about another matter. Your father’s funeral.”

Steve’s eyes drifted to the ground and he nodded solemnly. He remembered Fury personally calling him shortly after Steve returned to civilization in South Korea. Fury had offered his condolences and said that he would arrange a funeral.

“It’s time he finally got to rest,” Steve said softly. “This case has kept him from that for long enough.”

Fury nodded slowly. “The service is Saturday morning. I kept it small, just like you asked. HPD already had their own memorial service before you got back so it wasn’t too difficult. I’ll email you the details later today.”

“Thank you, sir,” Steve replied.

After they shook hands once more, Fury left, leaving Steve to stand alone in the empty hallway. It’s not like he forgot about the funeral, he just hadn’t really thought about it until now. Solving the case had always been Steve’s number one priority for the past week, but now that it was closed…

“Steve?” Sam had joined him in the hallway with a concerned expression.

“I thought it would feel different,” Steve said. “Finding his killer and solving this case… I thought I would feel more… accomplished?”

“How do you feel?”

“I…” Steve’s gaze feel to his feet. “I don’t feel anything.”

Sam stared at him for a moment before placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I mean…” Steve paused. He took a deep breath. His thoughts were all over the place. “Empty. I’m just… empty.”

Sam squeezed his shoulder.

“I thought… solving this case, getting justice and all that crap… it would’ve changed something, y’know? But…” Steve could feel himself tensing up. He tried to relax. He tensed up even more. “Nothing changed. Not a goddamn thing. Everything’s just the same as before. My dad’s dead and now Garrett’s dead—”

“And if was alive?” Sam interjected, a wary look in his eyes. “What would have done then?”

For a moment, Steve was at a loss for words. If he lied, Sam would know. And if he told the truth… well, Sam would not be happy with his answer.

“I don’t know,” Steve replied firmly before slipping out of the conversation and heading back to his office. “I think I’m going to head back to the hotel. I could use a nap.”

“Oh, uh… yeah, sounds good.” Sam started heading towards his own office. “Lemme just get my keys—”

“Thanks, but I’ll just take a taxi.”

“It’s no problem, Steve, really—”

“ _Sam_ ,” Steve replied a little too firmly, causing Sam to halt in his tracks. He took a deep breath. “Sorry, it’s just… it’s fine. Really. Thanks.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. Just… just text me, okay? If you need anything.”

Steve gave him a small smile. “I will.”

After he retrieved his belongings from his office, he turned back to Sam.

“Could you…?”

“I’ll close up here,” Sam assured him. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Steve nodded, and he had just reached the hallway when Sam spoke up again.

“Who am I kidding?” Sam said, and just as Steve turned back towards the office, his friend wrapped him in the tightest hug possible.

“You _call me_ , okay?” Sam said. “Promise me.”

Steve smiled. “I _promise_ , okay?”

“Get some rest, okay?”

“I _will_.”

“And you should take the day off tomorrow.”

Steve managed a small chuckle. “Don’t push it.”

\--------------------

In the few days that led up to Saturday, Steve buried himself in work. It turned out to be a lot easier than he thought; with the task force’s (or, as Fury put it, the STFU’s) first case closing quickly and neatly, big shots from around the state were pulling on as many strings as they could to get Hawaii’s newest crime-fighting unit to fix their problems. Steve easily kept himself preoccupied with the influx of requests, but he rarely spent any time actually solving cases.

“Are you kidding me?” Natasha exclaimed Friday afternoon. She sat with Sam and James at a coffee table in the common area between their individual offices. “ _Another_ rich CEO wants us to find a fucking wedding ring. Who do they think we are?!”

“It’s better than the judge that wanted us to find some plastic bead bracelet his kid made for him,” Sam muttered bitterly.

“To be fair, that wasn’t an official case,” Natasha said.

“Yeah, because the guy just waltzed in through the fucking door,” Sam replied.

“Well, at least those requests are actually _legal_ ,” James chimed in. “I’ve seen at least a dozen of these things from rich CEOs or politicians trying to find evidence to get them out of charges for tax evasion, DUIs, hit and runs…”

“Put those in a separate pile,” Steve said, emerging out his office with a stack of paper. While he didn’t feel like sitting in the common area with the rest of them, his door was wide open to listen to their conversations. “Once the number of requests go down, we’ll look at those first.”

“Wait, you actually want to _help_ them?!”

“No, I want to create a solid case to arrest them.”

Natasha grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”

“And… what are those exactly?” James asked warily, eyeing the stack of papers that Steve was holding.

“More cases,” Steve replied, setting them down on the table as the rest of the team groaned. “Any cases to hand off to HPD?”

“ _Yes_ ,” they replied simultaneously, each procuring stacks of paper as large as the one Steve set down.

“Guys, that’s all of them,” Steve sighed. “I thought you guys were sorting out the cases to ones we’d actually work on, ones for the HPD, and ones that are a complete waste of time?”

“We are,” Natasha replied happily.

“Only about five of the cases were actually worth our team’s time and resources,” Sam explained. “And even those aren’t really worth it either.”

“That reminds me…” James began. “What are we considered anyway? We have more jurisdiction than HPD, right?”

Steve nodded, remembering what Fury had asked him a few days prior. “Also, we apparently need a name for ourselves. Any ideas?”

“Natasha’s Angels,” Natasha immediately suggested. “Each of you has to wear fitted, leather, or minimal clothing every day, and there has to be at least one case a month that requires you to go in the water. With Speedos, of course.”

“Let’s not let Nat decide,” James quickly intervened.

“Oh! I got it!” Sam exclaimed. “The Fantastic Four!”

“Pretty sure that’s taken,” Steve said with a small laugh. He was pretty sure Sam was just trying to cheer him up, so the least Steve could do is act like it was working.

“Besides, what if a fifth person joins us?” Natasha asked.

“Five could work too,” Sam replied.

“Let’s just keep thinking about it,” Steve said. “Keep sorting these cases, okay? I’ll send these to HPD.” He took the tall stack of HPD cases and headed back to his office.

“Steve?” Sam had followed Steve into his office and closed the door behind him. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Steve said simply, maintaining eye contact with the papers on his desk. He knew his body language alone could tell Sam that he was lying; he didn’t need his facial expressions to make that job any easier.

But Sam didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply stood silently in front of Steve, waiting.

It didn’t take long for Steve to give up. He stopped working and sighed, his eyes still fixed to his desk.

“My dad’s funeral is tomorrow,” he said softly.

Honestly, Steve didn’t know why he didn’t want to tell Sam, James, or Natasha about the funeral. But it’s not like they knew his father; the only reason any of them would feel obligated to go was to be with Steve.

“I’m sorry,” Steve added.

“For what?”

“I didn’t tell you.”

“Steve, you didn’t have to tell me if you didn’t want to.”

“It’s not like I don’t want you there. I mean, I don’t, but—that’s not…” Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was not going well.

“Steve. Hey.”

Reluctantly, Steve opened his eyes and looked at his friend.

“I— _we_ are your friends, okay?” Sam nodded towards Natasha and James as he spoke. “We just want what’s best for you. It’s perfectly fine if you don’t want us there tomorrow; you need to do that alone, I get that. But if you need _anything_ , anything at all, we’ll be there for you. You got that?”

Steve managed a small smile and nodded.

“Yeah, Sam. Thanks.”

\--------------------

_Saturday morning_

Steve never understood why people described funerals as “nice”. Respectable and proper, sure. Beautiful? _Maybe_. But “nice”? That was like calling a funeral “pleasant” or “charming” or, what the hell, “ _enjoyable_ ”. Steve would not consider a funeral to be _nice_.

But Steve had to admit that his father’s funeral leaned towards the “nice” ones. It was humble and respectable, two traits that his dad always emphasized as the key characteristics of a good person. And while there were times that he and Steve didn’t get along, Steve always did his best to uphold those traits.

After the last of his dad’s friends and extended family paid their respects, Steve remained behind. Initially, he thought he just wanted to talk—after all, he did that a lot when his mother had died. But when he was finally alone, just him and the headstone with both of his parents’ names on it, he didn’t know what to say.

What had he said for his mom? He vaguely recalled his ten-year-old self crying right where he stood now about how much he missed her, how could she leave him, why did it have to be her… But now he had nothing. No cries of loneliness or laments about the unfairness of the world. Nothing.

Eventually, he found himself walking slowly out of the cemetery grounds and to the main road… he must’ve caught a taxi because before he knew it, the driver had stopped in front of his home.

Steve stared at his house for a moment, wondering if he should just take the taxi back to his hotel. What he really wanted was a nap though, and he wasn’t in the mood for a long drive back into town. So instead, he wordlessly paid the driver and went inside.

Thankfully, someone cleaned the place up since his last visit. The blood had been cleanly removed from both the floor and the wall, the broken furniture was gone, and all of the papers and books were neatly placed in the bookshelf or stacked on one of the tables.

Even though the evidence was gone, though, Steve still remembered the scene clearly. He could still picture the obvious signs of struggle he had seen. No amount of bleach and air freshener could cover up the smell of the blood. And he could still hear the sound of his dad over the phone…

Steve sprinted out of the house and crossed his backyard until he stood on the sand of the beach. He stared out into the ocean and watched the small waves in the distance. Not a single boat or swimmer was in sight. The clear sky and the deep blue water looked like a calming scene on a postcard; the caption would read “Welcome to Paradise!” It was terribly inappropriate to how Steve felt.

So instead, he closed his eyes. While the water was relatively still, Steve could hear the faint sound of waves slowly washing onto shore. He could see it in his mind, how the waves gently rolled over the rocks, briefly covering them from sight, before slowly receding back out into the ocean. Soon, his breathing had slowed to match the ebb and flow of the water—he didn’t even notice when it had picked up in the first place.

Once he had relaxed, Steve carefully opened his eyes, but he wasn’t ready to go back inside. The sound of a particularly large wave drew his attention down the coast; the beach continued for at least half a mile before turning a sharp corner and continuing out of sight.

Without a second thought, Steve began to walk. He didn’t really think about where he was going. In fact, he didn’t really think about anything at all. Not his dad, not his mom, not his house, not his work, not his friends—nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Since the dry sand was especially unstable, Steve found himself instinctively drifting to the firm sand by the water, only traveling more inland if there were large rocks in his path. Sometimes he would glance at the coast in front of him, but most of the time he looked to the sand at his feet or the crystal clear sky. Sometimes a bird would fly in his line of sight, and he would follow it with his eyes for as long as he could. Sometimes he saw a person or two, usually kids playing in the shallow water or a paddler taking a canoe out, but they were in their own world and so was he.

Which is why it came as a complete surprise when he heard a familiar voice.

“Steve? Are… are you okay?”

Steve almost stumbled into the water out of surprise. Because there, sitting in the sand right next to his path, was James Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Also, this chapter puts this fic past 40k! Thanks to all of you for sticking with me, even with the rocky start (those first few chapters bug me so much...) and the recent long waits. I love you all!
> 
> If you ever want to talk, you can find me on [tumblr](http://sassembled.tumblr.com)!


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